Animal Instincts
by gnrkrystle
Summary: Five years after Hogwarts, Hermione and Draco are thrown together after a certain 'Malfoy trait' kicks in and Draco needs Hermione's help.
1. Changes

**A/N: Hello all! As some of you know, over the past couple of years I've been working with beta Rusty Weasley to beta not only my new work but all of my old stories as well. This one is finally finished as of July 20, 2014. YAY! I'd like to thank Rusty Weasley for being the absolute best, most kick-ass, wonderful, patient, and helpful beta on the planet. He makes me a better writer and keeps me sane at times. So, if you are new to this story, enjoy. If you've ****read it before but want to read it again polished, enjoy! :)**

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><p><strong>Changes<strong>

**_Azkaban Prison: May 18, 2003_**

Lucius Malfoy felt blood dribble down his chin as he coughed into the dirty handkerchief in his hand. As undignified as it was, he'd grown accustomed to prison life in Azkaban. He knew he would be spending the rest of his life there since there was no Dark Lord to spring him out this time around. The only positive thought was that he didn't think he had much longer to stay.

His quill moved quickly and jaggedly across the parchment in front of him. He had to get this to his son. If he only had minutes left, he needed to warn him. As much as he resented his ungrateful heir for turning his back on the family destiny and siding with _Potter_ in the end, he was still his son. The five years in prison had given him a little perspective on that fact. After Narcissa died, Draco was left alone and now had no one to help him with the changes that were about to happen. Lucius could do this one last thing for Draco, and then be gone.

He coughed again, some of his own blood peppering the parchment. He didn't have time to start over. _Damn_. He felt it coming; the cold dark hand of death was clasping around his neck. He had to hurry. He should have done this much sooner. He should have warned Draco before now. It was a discussion to be had at the deathbed of the head of the Malfoy clan, not in some letter from prison, but these were the circumstances. It was all he could do.

Suddenly his chest heaved and he couldn't stop coughing. His breath rushed out, but he couldn't breathe in strong enough. Gasping for air, he toppled the inkwell over on the puritan desk he'd been given to make his final arrangements. "Help!" he gasped, but his voice was barely above a whisper. Long, hard minutes passed, until finally, painfully, he fell from his chair and dropped dead on the ground, his letter to his son lying unfinished on the desk.

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><p><strong><em>Enchanted Parchment, Diagon Alley: May 18, 2003<em>**

Hermione Granger thought she had finally hit her rhythm in life. After almost five years of settling for glimpses of affection Ronald Weasley decided to throw her way, she dropped the selfish bastard and struck out on her own. She was now a free woman, and it was intoxicating.

It hadn't been easy. So much of her life had been wrapped up in Ron, Harry, and the Weasleys that she had no idea what she was going to do without them. Luckily, Harry hadn't made her choose. He understood why Hermione was fed up, and informed her that he was shocked she'd put up with Ron as long as she had. Ron's pursuit of fame and lack of focus was not something Hermione would have been happy with in the long run, and luckily, most of the Weasleys understood. Mrs. Weasley was currently not speaking to her, but Hermione hoped that one day she would come around. The rest of the Weasleys assured her she would.

Pathetically, she'd wrapped herself up in her boyfriend's problems as well as his dreams. He'd been trying to make it onto a professional Quidditch team, and she'd given up everything for him, solely living off of their reward money for taking down Voldemort. The minute he'd been awarded a backup position on Puddlemere United, he'd been gone more than he was home, and she was left to figure out what to do with her time. He never cared, nor did he ask how her days were, and it finally hit a boiling point six months ago.

Thankfully, all of that was behind her now, and after Ron's childish comments when they broke up, she didn't care if he fell 60 stories off his stupid broom at the next practice. Now she was standing in the center of her pride and joy. She'd taken the bulk of her inheritance and the rest of her reward money and opened up her very own bookshop.

She craved the quiet life after all the insanity following the death of Voldemort. She knew she'd never be able to work at the Ministry. The government was too corrupt. No matter who took charge, the power got to his head, and they were back to passing unfair laws to try and control the population (don't even get her started on the role of women within the Ministry). She'd seen enough power-hungry men for a lifetime. The private sector fit her better, and after five months, her bookshop was her oasis, not to mention a successful livelihood. She specialized in the sort of books that Flourish and Blotts never bothered to carry, from the rare to the absurd. Eat your heart out, Ron-freaking-Weasley.

She was locking up for lunch. Her two employees were both out with a case of stomach flu. Although Wizarding medicine could clear up such an illness in a matter of minutes, Hermione wished for them to rest, and offered to hold down the fort for the entire day, which is why she was closing for lunch. She decided to make it a quick lunch as to not miss out on too much business. Flipping the sign to 'Closed', she made her way down the street toward her favorite little deli a few blocks away.

"Shit," Hermione muttered to herself as she felt the heel of her sandal come loose. It was still attached, but these cobblestone streets did nothing for her footwear. She had to remember to wear different shoes when she came to work. The Muggle London streets were a hell of a lot nicer on her footwear. With a sigh, she finished messing with her shoe and stood, smoothing down her skirt and coming around the alley to the entrance of the restaurant.

"Oh!" she gasped as she ran directly into someone. "I'm so sorry," she gushed, looking up at whoever she'd bumped into. Her eyes grew wide when she saw him. She hadn't seen him in person for over five years. "Malfoy?"

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><p><strong><em>Diagon Alley: May 18, 2003<em>**

"Call me later, baby," the blonde bimbo cooed into his ear as he disengaged from her clingy embrace. He knew it was a bad idea to go home with her. She had 'gold digger' written all over her, but he found he couldn't help himself. Fucking someone was better than just going back to the Manor alone. Besides, she wasn't a half-bad lay…when she kept her trap shut.

"Sure thing," he said, wanting to cringe when she called him 'baby' like they were a couple or something. He'd just met her, for Merlin's sake. If he were to risk losing half his money to a woman, it certainly wouldn't have been her. "I'll see you," he said, turning away from her without a second glance. No matter how badly he treated the women he fucked, they still would do anything he wanted. When they looked at him, all they saw was a sexy body, pretty face, and an enormous Gringotts account. He wasn't a person to them, just a sexy package holding the Galleons they were after.

Feeling a bit peckish, he sighed and turned the corner to look for something to eat before heading back to the Manor for another day of blinding boredom. Being the son of an ex-Death Eater had its problems, not the least of which being that he couldn't get a job anywhere if his life depended on it. The family business had gone down with Voldemort, and there was no reviving it. Luckily, he didn't need the money, but it was no fun just sitting around, either.

His thoughts were quickly interrupted when the small, tight body of a woman ran directly into him. To be fair, he hadn't been paying attention either, but when he looked up and saw Granger - a very grown up Granger - staring back at him, he couldn't help but sneer. "Well, what do we have here?" he said, his tone mocking.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said, exasperation in her tone. "Look, if you just move, I could get past you, and we can go about our day pretending we never even saw each other."

He smirked at her as she stood there, hand on her hips, looking bossy as ever. It might have been hot if it were someone else. He was about to open his mouth to retort when he felt a painful tingling sensation running through his body. His eyes snapped up to her, wondering if she'd hexed him, but she just looked back at him, confused.

"Malfoy?" she said, her voice concerned. _Did he really look that bad?_

He wanted to groan, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction as he felt the tingling intensify. He shut his eyes for a moment, and then it stopped. _What the fuck was that?_ he thought to himself. Opening his eyes, the panic began to sink in. Why was he so close to the ground...and where were his arms and legs? _What the fuck!_

Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head as she watched Malfoy transform before her eyes. One minute he was fine, the next minute he looked in pain, and then, suddenly, she was staring into the eyes of an albino python slithering out of Malfoy's clothes.


	2. Granger's Flat

**Granger's Flat**

Hermione's first thought was to run. The white, scaly skin of the snake made her blood turn cold as the 'Malfoy-snake' stared back at her, a look of shock on its snaky face. _A snake? Really? _She hated snakes. The fact that her most hated house at Hogwarts was associated with an animal that made her skin crawl, had not been lost on her at eleven years old.

Her second thought was, _what the actual fuck? _One minute, a sneering Draco was there, and the next he was gone. His clothes remained which meant one of two things. Either this snake was Draco Malfoy, or he was really bad at Apparating. As she knew the latter to be untrue, she had to believe it was the former. _Draco Malfoy was an Animagus? _The more she thought about it though, Animagi only change voluntarily, and from the look on Malfoy's face, he certainly hadn't been expecting a transformation.

What did that mean? Was this some kind of hex? She looked around. They were alone in the alley and had been the entire time as far as she knew. Besides, she hadn't heard anything. That had to mean the change was spontaneous. _Who ever heard of spontaneous Transfiguration? _She couldn't remember reading anything like it in a book. She wondered how much of Malfoy was still there. Could he hear her?

"Malfoy," she said, tentatively bending toward the snake. She had to take several deep breaths to will herself to get close. He was a terrifying thing. Perhaps, he could be considered a beautiful snake; his skin was pale and almost glowing, his eyes bright and expressive. However, he was still a snake and very large, or at least he seemed so. He was probably six feet long, and relatively thick.

The Malfoy-snake looked directly into her eyes and hissed. "Malfoy, if you can understand me, stick out your tongue." She didn't know what else to say. It wasn't as if he had any appendages to wave at the moment.

Draco had gone from zero-to-total fucking freak out in about point-two seconds. _What in Merlin's saggy ball sack happened to me?_ He twisted his head, which seemed able to move in any direction around to look at his "body." _A Snake? A bleeding, fucking snake!_ Had he possessed his regular lungs he would have begun hyperventilating, but instead, he hissed and lashed his tongue out, turning back to Granger.

He was going to kill her. If she didn't do this to him, she witnessed it, and it was enough to want her dead. Oh, when he had his body back. She was staring at him, a terrified tremble in her fingers as she seemed to be debating whether to fight or flee. Well, that was something at least. Whatever he looked like on the whole, it scared the Gryffindor Princess.

He had to get out of this. He had to figure out what the fuck went wrong, fix it, and get the hell out of there. The only problem was...he didn't have the first fucking clue what happened to him. He tried to talk, knowing that some magical creatures could speak, but nothing. Just hissing. He understood what the hissing meant, but Hermione didn't seem to register. _Parseltongue. _Of course, she couldn't understand him. _Mother fucking shit!_

"Malfoy," she said, her voice shaking, and he wanted to point out the obvious - that he couldn't speak, obviously - but nothing. Finally, the big brain realized she'd have to go at her line of questioning a different way, "Malfoy, if you can understand me, stick out your tongue." Stuck out his tongue, he did, and he hoped she felt his wrath as he did it.

She took a deep breath, possibly to calm herself, possibly to gather her thoughts and finally looked him in the eyes. "You'll have to come back to my flat. We can't stay in the alley all day."

_Her flat? Why the hell did he need to go to her flat? _"Here," she said, moving to pick him up, but he hissed at her again. "Damnit Malfoy, what are you going to do, slither around until someone tramples you? We have to figure out what happened to you and how to change you back. Now, put your stupid pride and prejudice behind you and get into my fucking purse!" she shouted.

Her use of foul language was enough to stun him. She was right, after all. He had no idea what to do, and the odds of him figuring it out alone, limbless, and unable to talk, weren't good. He really didn't relish telling anyone else about this, and it wasn't like he had a load of people lining up to help him with anything these days. Begrudgingly, he bowed his head to show he was willing and she picked him up.

"Now, you aren't going to fit in here," she said, indicating her large bag, "but we will have to make do." He hissed again as she dropped him into her bag, feeling the pointy end of a book jab him somewhere in his lower body. "Sorry," she murmured, arranging his body to fit as much of him in the bag as possible with his head hanging out of the side.

"Here, put your head in here," she suggested, opening the sleeve of her robes so as to hide his head. An albino snake was not commonplace, even in the Wizarding world, and she didn't want any questions. She assumed he didn't either. When he slipped his head inside her robes, she sighed, trying to gather her wits. She couldn't believe she'd suggested bringing Draco Malfoy to her home. Sure, he'd changed sides in the war, but they were far from friends. However, no matter what kind of an arse he'd been in school, he didn't deserve to be left like _this._

She stared back down at the clothes on the ground. Gathering them up, she shrunk them to fit in her pocket, took his wand and placed it with hers in her holster. _I can do this,_ she told herself. _I'm Hermione Granger and there isn't a problem I can't fix with logic. _She'd just get Malfoy fixed up, send him on his way, and forget she ever ran into him. It didn't look like she'd be reopening the store today.

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><p>Draco felt a bit like he was going to hurl. First, his body moved and reacted differently than he was used to, even though his brain remained the same. He still felt like he had arms and legs to use, but when his brain told them to move, he realized they were gone. Secondly, Granger's speed walking was jostling him to the point of insanity. He hoped, wherever her Merlin-forsaken flat was, it was close. Ten more minutes of this and they'd both see what it was like for a snake to toss his cookies.<p>

She smelled delightful, though. Regardless of the animosity, the vindictiveness, and the fact that he hated her guts, he couldn't deny that fact. Nestled against her in the warmth of her robes, he appreciated her for what she was, a delectable women. _Oh, Merlin, he was losing his mind._

Finally, the swaying stopped and he listened with his newly-heightened senses as she unlocked her door with her key_s. Perfect, it's a Muggle apartment, _he thought. At least no one would have the chance of seeing him. The swaying started again, until finally he was placed on a soft surface. He would have sighed if he could.

"Well," Hermione said, opening her bag and pulling him out, "Home sweet home," she said sarcastically. "I'm going to leave you here. I need a stiff drink."

_You and me both, sweetheart,_ Draco thought to himself. He watched as she made her way into what he assumed was the kitchen and looked around the room from his perch on the couch.

It was thoroughly boring, just like Granger. Bookshelves covered nearly every wall of her tiny flat. He was seated on the one couch in the room, an armchair to his right. There was a funky looking electronic device on a table in front of the couch. He knew he'd seen one before but couldn't, for the life of him remember what it was called or what it did. Most of her apartment seemed ordinary and Muggle. He sneered to himself.

It wasn't like he had a problem with Muggles. They minded their own business and he minded his. But he couldn't understand why Granger would want to live with them and behave like one when she was a witch. Why live in the Dark Ages when you have seen Enlightenment?

Speaking of Enlightenment...what the hell had happened to him? Hermione had just come back into the room when he realized he didn't have time to think about her or her Muggle apartment. He needed to figure out what the fuck happened to him so he could tell her how to fix it. _Tell her how to fix it?_ he questioned himself. _Yeah, right. _Unless she picked up Parseltongue in the next few hours, it wasn't likely he'd be telling her much of anything. _Fuck! _He was screwed.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, looking at him nervously. Now that he was in her home, she felt the slightest bit self-conscious. It only further pissed her off. _What the hell do I care what he thinks? _she berated herself. _Let's just fix this so he can get out of my life. _She mentally damned her need to help people no matter what. "I'm not sure if you are hungry, or what I should feed you if you are," she said, feeling like she was talking to herself. He was a snake for Merlin's sake.

She had his attention, and sighed and sat next to him on the couch. He brought his head up to her level and stared back. "We have to come up with some kind of system to communicate. For now, I'll ask 'yes' or 'no' questions. Turn your head to my right for 'yes' and my left for 'no'. Do you understand?"

There was a moment's pause before Draco turned his head to her right. "Good," she sighed, glad that, at least they weren't also working with a lack of mental capacity. "Are you hungry?"

He turned his head, emphatically to her right. He was fucking starving. Had been since he's left his one-night-stand off. That seemed like hours ago.

"Now what the hell do I feed you," she said more to herself. "Would you like human food?"

He nearly threw his back out (had that been possible) turning his head to her right. No way in hell was he eating a live mouse or any shit like that. He might be a snake, but he was a fucking Malfoy for Merlin's sake.

"Okay," Hermione said with a shaky breath. She didn't know if she'd ever get used to looking into the eyes of a snake. "Let me see what I have." Turning around she stalked into the kitchen. She took a moment to collect herself as she leaned against the counter. _You can do this, Hermione_ she told herself. _You helped kill Voldemort for pity's sake. This is Draco Malfoy, and he's not going to hurt you._

After her internal pep talk, she finally got herself under control. He looked scary, but he was also beautiful in his own way, and he was a man past all of that. He was a man who'd turned his back on his family to do the right thing in the war, and regardless of how much of a prat he was, that said something for him. He wouldn't hurt her, and the sooner she got over her absurd phobia, the sooner they could get down to business.

Pulling open her fridge, she bit her lip in thought. She had some cooked chicken left over from her dinner last night. Perhaps that would work. Cutting up chunks of it onto a plate for Malfoy's consumption, she walked back into the living room and placed the plate in front of him. She was too stressed to even think about eating at the moment.

It took him a few moments to figure out how to use his mouth and swallowing muscles, but finally he was able to eat the food off the plate, and though it felt strange going down, he began to feel the hunger dissipate. Hermione just watched him patiently as he ate. It was unnerving being watched like this, but it wasn't as if he could do much about it. Finally, when he was done, she commenced her questions.

"Okay, in order to figure this out, I need to know what you know. Did you know this was going to happen?"

Draco moved his head to her left.

"Are you an Animagus?"

Left.

"This has ever happened before?"

Left. He was growing frustrated. Why was she asking questions she already knew the answers to? If this had happened to him before, he wouldn't need her fucking help!

"Is your Patronus a python?" she asked, trying to think of any possibilities, though she'd never heard of a person changing into their Patronus either.

Malfoy just looked at her. "Is that a no?" She asked.

Still nothing.

"Malfoy, do you know what your Patronus is?"

Hesitantly, as if embarrassed, he moved his head to her left. It certainly wasn't a skill one learned in the Malfoy home, or in the ranks of the Death Eaters.

"Okay," she said, thinking to herself. "Okay, that's a thought. I'll have to look into it." Turning back to him, she asked, "Do you have _any_ idea how this happened?"

_Of course he bloody didn't! _If he had, did she think he would have let her carry him around like a fucking pet in her purse? This was hopeless. He moved his head to her left and glared at her. If Granger wasn't any brighter than this, he'd be better off alone. Slithering down the arm of the couch, he made his way toward the door. Surprisingly, getting used to moving with no arms and legs was easy. It seemed to be natural, inherent.

One thing, however, wouldn't be possible without appendages. Opening the door. He hissed angrily at the wooden barrier. _Fucking shit! _he cursed the blessed thing. All he wanted was to get the hell out of there. Granger and her stupid questions were getting him nowhere, and if the Gryffindor genius wasn't going to be any more help than that, he'd find someone else. Somehow.

"Where are you going?" Hermione almost laughed at the indignant look he gave her. "Who do you think will help you out there? No one knows you are a man. You're an all-white snake, big enough to strangle someone, and you can't talk. What do you think is going to happen if you leave here?"

Draco knew she was right, but he hated her in the moment. He hated his life, and his luck, and her. "Now," Hermione said, her voice professorial. _Oh, how he hated her_. "Do come back here and stop acting like a child."

What to do, what to do? He wanted to tell her to take a flying fucking leap. The problem was, he couldn't tell her anything. He guessed she couldn't be totally blamed for her stupid questions. He could only answer her 'yes' or 'no', and she didn't know what was wrong with him any more than he did. But rationality went out the window along with his penis and some working limbs. _Oh Merlin, he didn't have a penis anymore! _He wanted to die.

It was on his way back to the couch that he felt the tingling again. _Merlin's fucking tit, what now? _The pain intensified like last time until...he felt his arms and legs again. _Holy shit!_

Hermione's eyes doubled as she watched the white snake on the floor twitch and then morph back into Draco Malfoy, in all his naked glory.

They both looked at each other for a moment, too stunned to move. She forced her eyes to stay on his face, though she was desperately tempted to take him all in, and his eyes widened with shock. He was human again. _Thank Merlin! _It took him a moment to realize he was standing in the middle of Granger's Muggle apartment bare-ass naked. He certainly had his penis back.

"Clothes!" he finally barked. "Bring me my fucking clothes!"

That snapped her right out of her stupor, and she nearly tripped over herself getting up and going to her bedroom where she'd placed his things. "Thank Merlin," she called as she picked up his clothes. "I was really worried we wouldn't figure this out. It must have been some fluke, but now that you are back we can figure out what happened together."

She heard a groan and rushed back out to the living room. On the floor where naked Malfoy had been standing, was the snake. _What the fuck?_


	3. Make Yourself at Home

**Make Yourself at Home**

_Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!_ _Not again!_ Draco wanted to die. First, he was standing naked in front of _Granger_ of all people. Not that he was self-conscious. He was far from it, but he had not been _expecting_ to give her a peep show. Plus, the utterly innocent shock on her face made him want to blush, and Malfoys absolutely do not blush.

He wanted to punch something, but as he didn't have a fist, all he could do was slither around the floor, trying anything to get back to his normal self. It was almost worst knowing that he _could_ change back; he didn't know how to do it voluntarily. Or was that even the case? Maybe this was part of the curse. _Fucking Hell. _Now he had a headache on top of his reptilian problem.

"Merlin," Granger muttered, dropping his clothes on the floor at her feet.

_Yeah, tell me about it._ He couldn't take this, and furthermore, he was starting to get dizzy from spinning in circles on Granger's precious carpet. He stopped and shook his head to try and clear his thoughts.

What happened to make him change back? He'd been irritated, but that was nothing new when it came to being in Hermione Granger's presence. It seemed so random. Maybe this was all part of some plan by whoever did this to him - to make him utterly insane. It was fucking working. For a few seconds, he was even glad he was a snake because he worried that, were he in his human form, he might do something absurd...like cry.

He wasn't a greedy man. A few willing witches now and then, fine wine, and good food. It was all he asked for. It wasn't much. So, why was he stuck in this limbless, penis-less, wordless hell? And with Granger of all people. He'd admit that he was grateful to her when he was able to walk on his own two legs again. Until then, he was being petulant and he didn't care.

_Oh no!_ Hermione thought to herself. So close to getting Malfoy and his snaky self out of her life, and he was back. She tried hard not to blame him. This wasn't his fault after all. In fact, all in all, this was much easier for her than him. He had to be scared and confused. It was his body that was changing, after all. Damned if she'd tell him she felt sorry for him, though. He'd probably bite her on the face, and they hadn't established if he was one of those poisonous snakes or not.

"Malfoy, just calm down," she said, seeing him freaking out. His head snapped in her direction, and he hissed at her, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Okay, so maybe '_calm down'_ was a bad choice of words," she sighed.

"Look, I'm just saying that wearing a hole in my carpet isn't going to fix this," Hermione explained. He didn't seem to be listening, but he did stop his constant slithering. "Malfoy, I've never failed at anything in my life," she said, leaving off that she'd made a right mess of her few relationships, but that was another story. "I will figure this out, but you needn't stress yourself out any further. You are what you are, and until we research this, we aren't going to have any answers."

He seemed resigned as he looked up at her, raising himself to her eye level. "Now, did this change feel the same as last time?"

He moved his head to her right, employing their previously established communication method. "Okay," she thought to herself. "Okay, so...God Damnit! I wish you could fucking talk!"

_You and me both_, Draco thought to himself. He waited while she had a slight breakdown, throwing down the pillows from the couch.

"I need to know if there were any similarities between what you were thinking or doing when the two changes occurred."

She was speaking to herself again, and it took all his patience not to slap her back to attention.

"This is getting us nowhere," she finally decided. "I'm going to look through the books I have here and see if there is anything of use. You can make yourself at home, if you wish."

_Not bloody likely,_ he wanted to say. Looking around, her apartment couldn't have been any more different than the Manor. It was small, cramped with all the books, not that he expected anything less. She could have a mansion and still cram it full of books. _Bloody, infuriating know-it-all._

He admitted that her flat was actually cute, if he'd ever found himself comfortable using that word. It was clean, which was a plus considering he was a bit of a neat freak himself. _I can't believe that I'm appraising Hermione Granger's flat! _Never, in all his years did he think he'd ever even be alone in a room with her, let alone in her home. It felt strange and intimate. She lived here. She dressed and slept here. It was her "space." This was where she went to get away from the world. That was _very_ personal.

He knew how a home could be personal and how that could be perverted. His childhood home had been turned into a den of Death Eaters - his memories scattered across the drawing room floor just like Granger's blood. _Come on, Draco, get it together!_ he scolded himself. The last thing he needed to do was bring himself back to _those_ times. He'd practically ripped down the Manor, redecorating it to remove every square inch of Voldemort's influence, and he was very happy with it, thank you very much!

Anyway, back to the task at hand - getting to know Granger's digs. He looked over at her, and found she was already face deep in a pile of books. He was as good a researcher as she, he was sure, but without the ability to turn pages, he'd be of little use. He _hated_ giving her control, but there was little else he could do at the moment until he figured out a better way to communicate with her.

He moved into the kitchen, noting it was larger than he'd expected, but still not much to talk about. Clean and functional, at best. Bored, he moved on, the bathroom was down the hall and he realized, sadly, that he'd have little use for it. He didn't know how snakes 'did their business' but he could be assured that a toilet wasn't going to be part of the equation. As far as the shower, it would be highly entertaining to scare the living fuck out of Granger while she was in there - not to mention, he wouldn't mind seeing what she had under those robes - he was a man after all - but his white skin would probably blend into the white tub and he'd get accidentally trampled.

There was one door off to the side in the hallway, and he assumed it had to be her bedroom. While he believed he wouldn't be spending much time in there, curiosity got the better of him. She did say to 'make himself at home' after all. Slithering down the hall, he poked his head into the cracked door and let himself in. She was in 'study' mode. She wouldn't have the slightest fucking clue if he was in her bedroom anyway.

It was, by far, the most personal room of the house. It was soft and feminine without being over the top. _At least there's no fucking pink_, he thought to himself. She'd chosen teal and ivory as a color pattern and it was pleasing, if not his personal taste. The bed looked comfortable enough.

It took him more moments than he'd like to admit to figure out how to slither up her bed post to get on the bed. Finally, he got the hang of the way his new body worked and made his way under her sheets. _Mmmm,_ there was that smell again. She might be a stuck up bitch, but she smelled like heaven. It was an odd mixture of tea leaves and some kind of flower. He didn't know anything about that shit, but he knew it smelled good.

It was warm in there too. He hadn't noticed before how cold he was until he was under her duvet. As much as he'd have loved to stay in there for the rest of the day, he was sure that Granger would have him made into Snake Stew if she caught him not only on her bed, but in it. Basking in a few more moments of peace and comfort, he finally moved out of the bed and back down to the floor.

He noticed that her bedroom was the only room even slightly askew. Her closet door was open, with her shoes in disarray on the floor. She might be a bookworm, but she was still a girl, he noticed. She had no fewer than 30 pairs of shoes in there. The top drawer of her dresser was also open. He knew what most women kept in that drawer, and the Slytherin in him couldn't, in good conscience, leave the room without checking out what kind of knickers Granger had. _One Hundred Galleons says a drawer full of white and pink old-lady knickers._

He moved up the side of her dresser, careful to avoid her jewelry box and deodorant stick on top. Poising his head over the edge to look into the drawer, he would have laughed if he were able. _Damn, Granger, you little minx. _Inside she had lace and silk in all colors and cuts. Sure, there were some standard knickers in there, but overall, she definitely appreciated fine lingerie. He wondered, idly, just who was seeing her in those tiny little knickers. _Don't go there Draco. You're starting to sound nuts._

He didn't get any closer, for fear his wandering thoughts would get out of control. It was natural that he was a little turned on. It was sort of like the librarian fantasy. Everyone has them, but he didn't want to encourage it. Granger was off limits, as it should be. They were from completely different worlds and wanted completely different things out of life...and probably sex. _Ugh, this fucking snake thing is really fucking with my head_.

Deciding to get out of there while he was still holding on to a shred of his sanity, he slithered back down the dresser and out of the room. No way of hiding that he was in there, as he couldn't shut the door, but he didn't care at this point. When he got back into the living room, he noticed that Hermione hadn't moved, so much as an inch from her desk in the living room. _Damn,_ _she hasn't changed_ _a bit_, he thought to himself as he realized that, five years later, studying was still a whole body experience for her.

He could probably do a Snake tap dance in the middle of the room and she wouldn't even notice. He mentally smirked. Oh, to see Granger jump out of her skin. It would be almost worth the mess of being stuck as a fucking snake. Almost...he was still missing his penis, after all.

He slowly and quietly moved over to her at her desk. She didn't move. As he reached the leg of the desk, he used his new found skills to inch his way up the leg. Not so much as a twitch from the witch in the chair next to him. Higher and higher he moved until his head was moving along the flat top of the desk and up the book in Granger's hands. Oh, if he could only smirk. He was going to scare the ever-loving shit out of her.

The fact that this was both mean and immature didn't even pass through his brain for a moment. It was fun, and if he was stuck like this, damnit, he was going to get some kicks out of it. Lashing his tongue out with a slight hiss, he peered at Granger from the top of her book and waited. Her eyes snapped up to him for a split second before going back to her book, then back up to him.

"Ahh!" she screamed, dropping the book and falling on her ass as her chair tipped backward. "Fucking shit! Goddamnit!" If he could have, he would have laughed, but only amused hissing escaped him. He slithered forward, peering over the desk at where Granger had fallen on the floor, and was shocked to find her crying. _Oh. Shit. Oops._

Hermione had been scouring her resources for anything on alternate animal personalities, spontaneous transfiguration, even Patronuses, but wasn't having much luck yet. She couldn't remember ever reading about something like this. He hadn't been changed by a wand, perhaps someone outside range got him. Though, she wasn't sure how they could have. Magic wasn't limitless.

A hissing noise broke her concentration and suddenly she was staring in the face of a white snake. "Ahh!" she cried, jumping back before she realized it was just Malfoy. "Fucking shit! God damnit!" she shouted, feeling her bum bruising from where she hit it, falling out of her chair.

Her heart was racing in her chest as the scare hit her system. Before she could stop it, she was crying, relief at not being eaten alive by the snake, and anger at Malfoy for scaring the fuck out of her. "Malfoy!" she cried, wiping angrily at her tears as she saw him staring down at her from the desk. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She sniffled. _Merlin be damned. I'm fucking crying like a baby. I hate him!_ She didn't want to appear weak, so she made quick work of getting to her feet and getting her heart and emotions back under control. "Are you really that hateful?" She was steaming. She hated snakes, and it was cruel of him to scare her like that when she was helping him.

"I'm doing my best to fix your stupid problem, and you scare the shit out of me? Why don't you fix it yourself? See how far you get without me to help you!" To his credit, even in snake form, Draco looked thoroughly chastised. Sighing, she shook her head. It was no use arguing with a snake, even if he was Draco inside. Before she could even think of starting in on another tirade, there was a tapping at her kitchen window.

Throwing Malfoy her worst glare, she twirled around and marched into the kitchen, not bothering to notice that he'd followed her. She didn't give two shits what he did at this point anyway. Opening the window, she was shocked to see it was already dark out. How much time had she been researching?

She smiled when she saw Athena, Harry's owl that replaced Hedwig, and offered her an owl treat and taking the letter she offered. "Thank you, Athena," she murmured, letting the owl back out of the window. She smiled as she opened the letter, glad to have some amount of normalcy in this utterly fucked up day. _At least Harry can be called upon to be normal_, she told herself as she began reading.

_Hermione,_

_I know it's been a few weeks since we've seen each other. You wouldn't believe how crazy it's been in the Auror office of late. Anyway, Ginny and I would like to invite you over for dinner this Saturday evening. We have some news and we are having a small gathering of friends. Before you ask, Ron will not be there. We promise._

_Also, I'm not sure if you had a chance to get the Evening Post, but there's some news from Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy is dead. I know the war was a long time ago, but after all that happened, I just thought you might want to know._

_Anyway, enough of that rot. Let me know if you can come to dinner, and please remember that we haven't seen your pretty face in nearly a month. So, if you can't make it, you better have a healer's note._

_Harry_

Hermione chuckled at her friend, but her mind couldn't get over the news of Lucius' death. What were the odds that Malfoy would be thrown into her life the same day the Harry informs her that his father died? Something was strange. Further, how could she not tell Malfoy about it? But would he really want to find out from _her? _The question became moot the minute she realized that he had perched himself on the kitchen table and was reading over her shoulder.

'_...Ron will not be there...' _Well, that was interesting enough. Draco guessed that explained some of the risque lingerie in Granger's drawer, but the thought that it was wasted on the Weasel made him feel ill.

'_...Lucius Malfoy is dead...'_ Those four words knocked the air right out of his snaky lungs.

"Draco," Hermione started.

Draco shook his head, willing her to shut up for a moment. He didn't even notice that she'd used his given name. He needed to wrap his mind around this. _Dead_. His father was dead.

It wasn't as if he cared about his father. He'd made his choice five years ago when he joined with Snape and spied for the Order. His father got them into all that mess with Voldemort, and he'd never forgive him for it. But..._dead? _He hadn't even known he was sick. Or was he? Was he murdered in there? Azkaban was supposed to be now than in the days of the Dementors, but Lucius was not a well-liked man these days.

_Enough! _He was not going to waste his time thinking about that arrogant ass when he needed to be working on how to get out of this mess. He skimmed the rest of the note before noting that it was from Potter and tried to slither out of the room before Granger demanded they 'talk'.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry you had to find out that way. I didn't..."

He was tuning her out now. He didn't want or need her pity or sadness. She hated the bastard as much as he did, if not more, and there was no use lying about it or pretending otherwise. It _did_ sort of grate on his nerves that Harry-fucking-Potter knew about his own father's death before he did.

_Potter_. It didn't matter how many years passed or that he'd ended up siding with Potter in the end, he didn't like the guy. Ever since the first year when Potter so smugly denied his friendship - not that he really wanted to be the kid's friend, mind you - he'd hated him. Then, in second year when he walked around like he was the 'heir of Slytherin'..._Ha! As if Potter would know how to be a Slytherin...wait a second. _The only reason people thought that was because of the deal with the snake at the dueling club.

_A Parselmouth. _They needed a Parselmouth, and it just so happened Granger's best fucking buddy was one. Now, how to get the big brain to realize this very obvious fact..._Brightest witch of our age, my perfect ass._


	4. A Conversation

**A Conversation**

Hermione was startled when Malfoy whirled around and headed back into the kitchen. "Malfoy, I know you can't talk, but it's okay to be upset about this. He was your father..." Personally, she thought the world was a better place without the arsehole, but like she said, he was Malfoy's father. You couldn't help who your parents were.

He wasn't listening. Climbing up the kitchen table with his white, gleaming body, he moved over to where the letter had been abandoned and poked his head at it.

"What?" she asked coming over to him. He poked it with his head again. _What the fuck was wrong with him?_

He jabbed at the parchment again and she was worried he'd gone 'round the twist. She wanted to scream at him, '_WHAT IS IT?' _but that would be fruitless. He couldn't speak, and was probably as frustrated as she was, if not more so. She scanned the letter again, but the only part that could possibly mean something to Malfoy was the bit about his father. He'd made it clear he wasn't interested in talking about _that_, so what was it?

He picked the paper up in his mouth, shaking it in the air, feeling like a total nutter. This girl really was thick, wasn't she? The more he thought about it, the more he realized how insane it was that she forgot about asking Harry. The only Parselmouth for generations was her best sodding friend.

It was official. There was nothing more frustrating than this. _Merlin's fucking moldy right bollock! _Why was this happening to him? Turning into a fucking snake, and stuck with the world's most annoying woman. Rationally, he knew that she was confused, stressed, and out of her depth in this situation. She couldn't be blamed for forgetting the obvious. He, after all, hadn't even thought of it until Potter sent her that owl. Still, he didn't care. He'd be rational later. _Sometime when I have a working sex organ...or at least legs._

He considered how he could tell her what he wanted to say. She was looking at him helplessly, trying desperately to understand him. He even thought about spelling out Potter's name with his body, but he wasn't sure he'd be able.

"Is there something in the letter you are trying to show me?" she asked.

_No, princess. I'm just having a fucking freak out for the hell of it. Thought there wasn't much better to do. _Draco turned his head, harshly to her right before turning his attention back to the letter, willing it to speak for him. It was hopeless. Unless he developed Legilimency in the next hour, it was unlikely that he'd be able to tell her anything. He'd just have to take a few deep breaths and figure out how to make her understand. _Oh, Merlin. He needed Potter of all people. He'd never feel clean after this._

Hermione had almost reached her breaking point when it happened. All of a sudden, a naked Draco Malfoy appeared on top of her kitchen table. No snake in sight...at least not a real one. His crotch was directly in her line of sight, and she couldn't keep from staring. _Wow. Who knew he was packing heat?_

"Holy shit," she breathed, tearing her eyes away from his...snake. She moved up his toned abs, willing herself not to drool. _This is Malfoy, Hermione. Remember that!_ She finally looked into his eyes. "I'll get your clothes," she said stupidly. She had to take her eyes off of him. _You can do it. Look away, Hermione._ She didn't know what was worse, Malfoy as a snake, or him turning up as a naked man every other second.

Before she could move, Draco choked out, "Potter! Get Potter!"

She quickly made her way to the living room, gathering up his clothes, hoping he'd still be human when she got back. She couldn't focus on anything when he was naked like that. For a moment she thought he'd asked for Harry. _It's official. You've lost it, Hermione. Malfoy hate Harry._

She threw the clothes at him, pleased to note that he was still in human form when she got to the kitchen, although he hadn't moved from the top of the table. She was sure she'd never be able to eat breakfast on it again. At least not without remembering that body..._Focus, damnit!_

She turned around for him to dress, and felt relieved when she heard the rustling of clothes behind her.

"Look, Granger, in case I change back in two seconds, you have to get Potter here. He's a Parselmouth. Maybe he can translate or something. Communication is key, right?"

"Harry," she said, thinking out loud. How could she have forgotten about Harry? Even after Voldemort killed the Horcrux inside him, he maintained most of his abilities; she assumed the ability to talk about snakes was included. After all, Harry had lived with the knowledge of snake language for almost 17 years, regardless of where it came from. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"Granger, you can berate yourself later. We've got to talk about this while I've still got time. If I change back and we wasted all our time trying to get you over the shock of being wrong, I'll be pissed!" he said, pulling her attention back to him.

She turned around just in time to see him button up the black shirt he'd been wearing that morning. Wow, had it really been only a day? "You're right," Hermione said, collecting herself and conjuring a notepad and Muggle pen. "I'll contact Harry if you change back."

Draco groaned. He needed Potter, but he didn't have to like it. The fact that his school nemesis would have perfect blackmail material was further proof of how dire a situation he found himself in. "He better not tell anyone."

"Don't worry," Hermione said, "he's an Auror. I'll make sure he keeps this professional. He understands confidentiality."

"Oh yes, Saint Potter," Draco sneered.

"Look, do you want to spend these precious moments acting like a child, or do you want to brainstorm?" Hermione asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

_Well, she had a point_. "Fine," he gave in, sitting in the chair across from her at the table. He noticed how she blushed when she looked at the tabletop and was so tempted to tease her. Her face when she checked him out was priceless. For someone with a drawer of naughty knickers, she was sure easy to make blush. "So, have you found anything in the books?"

"No," she replied quietly. "I've figured it must be some kind of spontaneous transfiguration, but there's no explaining why you change so randomly. I'd also considered that this is your Patronus form, but I can think of no known instance where a person has change into their Patronus, unless they were an Animagus," Hermione explained. "Have you ever tried becoming one?" she asked after a moment's thought.

He was wracking his brain to try and figure out what the hell it could be. He'd never heard of anything she was talking about, but he couldn't blame her. He had no ideas either. "No," he answered. "I never had a desire to be an animal of any kind." He never knew why anyone would want to, unless they were interested in a life of crime. He never even considered it. Now that he'd spent the better part of a day as a snake, there was no danger that he'd even dream of trying it in the future.

He noticed Hermione's lips quirk, almost as if she wanted to smirk, but she kept it in. "Do you have any ideas?" she finally asked, refraining from saying whatever had crossed her mind.

"If I did, don't you think I'd tell you?" he responded with a bite. He couldn't help it.

"Touché," Hermione said with a shrug. "I'm going to have to get my hands on more books," she said. "My selection might be large, but I have very little about animal transfiguration."

"Don't you own a book store?" Draco queried. He couldn't help but smirk at the shocked look on her face.

"How? What?" she sputtered, wondering where he'd learned that.

He laughed out loud. Not a mocking laugh, but a genuine one. It seemed to Hermione that the longer he remained human, the higher his spirits were.

"I might not get out much, but I do get the _Daily Prophet_. I saw the article about it's opening," Malfoy explained.

"Oh," she said, not really knowing how to respond. It was weird to think he'd been reading about her. Sure, she knew about the article, but she never thought about the people reading it. She only did it to boost business. "Well, anyway, my selection at the store won't be a great deal of help either."

Draco sighed. Brick wall after brick wall. Well, there was one place where he knew there were a lot of books, but he wasn't sure how to make it work, nor did he know if she'd go for it after everything. "We can try the Manor," he finally said. If he only got a few minutes to speak, he'd better lay it out as an option. He'd lived in that house for twenty-three years and still hadn't seen all of the books. In fact, Granger would probably come in her pants if she got her hands on his library. That was, if she got past the fact that his aunt tortured her in the drawing room.

"The Manor?" Granger mused. "I assume there are many books there that you wouldn't find in your average library." Nodding, she turned her attention back to him. "Okay, if you change back, we'll go to the Manor and see if there is anything there. Oh Merlin, I'm never opening the store again," she groaned.

"Why don't you delegate? Hire some help. It's not as if you can't use it," Draco said with a shrug.

She gave him an irritated look. "I have help, thank you very much," she said in a haughty tone, "but I gave them the rest of the week off."

"Well, it looks like you better call them in the morning and let them know their vacation's been cut short," Draco replied. Why did she have to make everything so difficult? The last thing he needed was to be blamed for her stupid store being closed. Managing a staff was easy. The fact that he turned into a six-foot long snake at a moment's notice was more difficult.

"Fine," Hermione replied, ready to strangle him. Perhaps he was better as a snake. At least he kept his snarky comments to himself. The quiet was nice. "Let me just ask you, though. Can you tell me about the changes? What do you feel? What are you thinking when it happens? Try and be detailed." She poised her pen and waited for him to begin.

After a moment of thought, he sighed and propped his elbows on the table, resting his head against one hand. "The first time it was a painful tingling. One minute I was getting ready to say something sarcastic to you…"

_That's a surprise, _she thought,

"…and the next minute the tingling started, from my feet to my head."

She wrote down his assessment word for word and waited for him to continue.

"When I opened my eyes, I was a snake."

_Thank you, Captain Obvious, _she wanted to say, but refrained. They were being civil enough, and she was grateful for that. "When you're a snake, what is it like?" Hermione asked.

"I still feel like me. It's as if I'm truly just trapped in another body. It's weird for me using the snake body."

She wondered if he realized how insane he sounded. He probably did. There was no way he could not. The whole situation reminded her of _The Twilight Zone_. "When you changed back to human form the first time, what happened?"

"Well, I was frustrated, but I was resigned to being a snake until we figured this out, and then all of a sudden the tingling started again. Just like before."

Hermione nodded. She'd wondered if it felt the same both ways. So, the tingling was an indicator. That was something at least. "Hmmm," she thought aloud. It was just as she suspected. Given the look on his face when he changed, he obviously felt _something,_ but there was no real link between what was happening and his thoughts or feelings, it seemed. So, it wasn't coming from _him. _On the other hand, it couldn't be a hex or curse unless someone slipped him a potion...she'd have to look into that later. "And when you changed back into the snake..."

"Well, to tell you the truth, at the time, I was a little more concerned with standing naked in your living room," he said, smirking.

_God, there was that smirk._ It made warmth pool in her stomach as she mentally attached that smirk to the body she'd been witness to moments ago. _Get it together, Granger!_ she snapped at herself.

"I didn't realize you were so shy, Malfoy," she said instead of focusing on the insane attraction she felt toward him at the moment. _There, throw him off his axis._

The smirk broadened. "There are many naked fantasies I've had, but you never played a lead role," he replied nonchalantly. Although, that wasn't really true, was it? He'd been thinking about her in the shower not two hours ago. Well, she didn't need to know that. And the embarrassed blush on her face was worth the lie. Besides, he'd been on display, quite literally. He needn't let her have the upper hand here as well.

Granger just rolled her eyes at him and looked at her watch. "It's been fifteen minutes. I don't want to jinx it, but do you think the coast is clear?"

"Even if I don't change back, I still need to find out why I did in the first place. I can't go anywhere not knowing if this will happen again." She nodded at him in understanding. At that moment, he was overcome with a huge sense of gratefulness. It's a relatively new emotion for him, but it's there all the same.

Sitting in front of him was a girl who he'd treated like total shit as long as he'd known her. He'd called her racist names, picked fights with her and her best friends, and been an ass in almost every way. For fuck's sake, he watched as she was tortured in his home. However, here she was, helping him, listening to him, _caring_ about what happened to him. He wondered why.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he said, looking down at the table top.

"For what?" she asked, her voice not even trying to mask her surprise.

"For scaring you earlier. It was immature."

"Oh," she said, completely shocked at his apology. What alternate universe had she stepped into? "Well, to be honest, I hate snakes."

His laughter made her smile.

"Hate them. Always have. When you changed into a snake in that alley, I was seconds from running in the other direction."

"Ironic," Malfoy said, his chuckling dying down. "Oh!" he cried, something occurring to him instantly. "I need a way to turn pages in books. I can't do it myself, but a charm maybe would help. I'm not sure. If I change back into a snake, I need to be able to help you research."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," Hermione said. "I'll think of something. It's been almost twenty minutes though, so..."

"Bugger!" Draco cried, cutting her off. It was as though her mentioning the time reminded his body to change. "It's happening. I can feel it."

Hermione's heart sank. No matter what Draco had done to her in the past, he didn't deserve this torture. She frowned at him when his white snake head came up to her eye level. "It's one o'clock in the morning. Too late to call Harry. But I'll call him first thing in the morning, I swear."

He bowed his head sadly before slithering out of the kitchen. Biting her lip, she controlled her natural urge to comfort him. He didn't want it, she knew, and it wouldn't fix the situation anyway. Instead, she turned her attention to the next task at hand. _How in the blue fuck was she going to explain this to Harry?_


	5. Summoning Potter

**Summoning Potter**

Hermione lay awake most of the night thinking. After setting up sleeping arrangements for Draco on the couch with a blanket, she retreated to her bedroom and tried sleeping. After about thirty minutes, she realized it was futile. Draco Malfoy was a bloody snake...and sleeping on her couch. She'd be shocked if _he_ was getting any sleep either. However, after all the nudity and blushing, she really didn't want to spend a great deal more time with him at the moment. _Yeah right, Hermione. You are a coward with a capital "C". _She knew she was just avoiding him, but it freaked her out thinking of Malfoy as anything but disgusting.

Instead of thinking about Draco's endowments and hot body, she busied herself with the facts of the case. She needed to figure out what she knew and what she could do.

First, there was the issue of page turning. She didn't know a charm that could do it off the top of her head, so she drafted an owl to send off to Professor Flitwick first thing in the morning. She really needed to get her own owl. Then again, how often did she find herself in situations like this?

After that, she moved onto organizing what she knew and what she didn't know about Malfoy and his changes. She quickly realized that she knew very little. Basically, a tingling preempted the changes, and that was about it. On the top of her long list of questions was: _What was Malfoy doing before she ran him down in the alley? _That might give her some insight to what caused the whole thing.

Finally, at 5:00am, she could pretend to sleep no more and tiptoed out of her bedroom, passed the sleeping Draco-snake, and went into the kitchen to start coffee. After a quick cup of black, she snuck out of the apartment, Apparating to the post office in Diagon Alley to send off her letter.

* * *

><p>Draco was fucking cold. This cold-blooded thing was a real pain in the ass. Since he was agitated and quite mobile the whole day before, he hadn't taken the time to notice. Now, as he took up his place on Granger's couch with nothing more than a thin blanket, he was freezing his non-existent balls off.<p>

Even if he'd been able to shut his brain off, he wouldn't have been able to sleep in that cold. Why was Granger's air conditioner blowing like a fucking hurricane? He curled his body up around itself and got as far under the blanket as he could manage. Through the shivering, he thought about his next move. They had to get to the Manor and figure out how he could do research while she was at work. He also needed to deal with Potter. _Ugh, that was possibly worse than being a fucking snake._

After that, they'd have to go over every detail of the days leading up to the change to see if there were any clues. He couldn't think of anything off the top of his head. He'd spent the last few days at home. He'd only just left the Manor two nights ago when he went to a function that Blaise Zabini had invited him to attend. They weren't close, but he was about the only member of Slytherin who didn't think him a traitor, so they stayed in touch. He talked to his friend for a few minutes before locating the blonde bimbo he would take home. After that, he'd spent a great deal of time in and on her until he dropped her off in Diagon Alley. The end.

After recalling the events of the night before he changed, he became unable to ignore his dead father any longer. He felt strange about it. For the last five years (and a few years before that), he'd resented his father. Why did Lucius have to go off and join that total whack job? Why couldn't he just be silently prejudiced and go on about his business? He ruined the family name, and Draco's life with all that nonsense. He was sure that the stress killed his mother. It didn't matter that Narcissa lied to protect Potter, or that Draco had fought on the side of the Order; there was no repairing what Lucius did to the family name.

Draco knew he never had a chance. It was either be a loyal Death Eater and lose his soul, or turn on his family and be a traitor. By doing so, he was never fully respected by the Order and he was hated by his old friends. This lonely life he led...that was all Lucius' fault too.

However, Lucius was his father, and one thing you didn't forget, as a Malfoy, was that blood was important. Oh, he could care less about purity anymore. Anyone with eyes knew that Granger was ten times the witch as any one of those simpering purebloods his parents had forced him to talk to - not that he'd ever tell her that. Draco knew that you couldn't completely put your past behind you. One look in the mirror and he saw his father staring back. He couldn't run from that.

If he was honest with himself, he was feeling a little...well, sad wasn't the word, but it was something like that. For so many years, he strived to please his father, never succeeding. To find out the man was gone - in a letter from Potter no less - was just too much to take on top of being a fucking snake. _Things really have taken a turn for the worst, _he told himself.

He was pulled from his morose thoughts when he saw Hermione tiptoe out of her bedroom. It was still dark outside, so he had no idea what time it was. He wondered if she was having as much trouble sleeping as he was. Who was he kidding? Why should she care what happened to him? She had to help him because she was Hermione Granger. She'd combust if she didn't 'do the right thing'. He was sure that caring for his wellbeing outside of this crisis was not likely. Why would she? He had been an ass to her since the day they met.

_Why the hell am I thinking about this? I could give two shits if Granger is worried about me. I just need her to fix this! _With that rant out of the way, he watched as she left the apartment, making as little noise as possible. For one terrible second he worried she was bailing. But it wasn't like she could just abandon her flat, right? Besides, it wasn't her style. Only after exhausting every source at Malfoy Manor would she even think of throwing in the towel.

So, he waited. And he waited. He had no idea how much time had passed, and he wished Granger had a clock somewhere in the room. How did the bloody woman ever know what time it was? Finally, after what seemed like hours - though it was still mostly dark out - she quietly came back into the flat, flipping the light in the kitchen on.

_Might as well let her know she doesn't have to sneak around her own house_, Draco thought with an internal sigh. Besides, he was too cold to sit still anymore. Sliding down the couch and onto the carpet, he made his way into the kitchen, knocking over a knick-knack on her bookshelf just to announce his presence. He didn't want to scare her again. That had been a bad idea before.

"Morning, Malfoy," Hermione said without even looking up from the teacup she was preparing. "I assume you are hungry again. I'm sorry I forgot your dinner last night. When I get into research mode, I sometimes forget those things," she said pointing out the obvious.

_That_ he'd already known, but truth be told, he didn't notice being hungry until she mentioned it. He slithered up the kitchen table leg and onto the table, as she finished with her tea and made her way to the fridge.

He obviously couldn't say anything, but he bowed his head to show his thanks when she set the food in front of him. It was chicken again. It tasted funny on his new taste buds, but there was no way he was eating a live mouse or anything thing like that. He was a man, no matter what his body was saying at the moment. "Did you sleep well?" she asked.

He turned his head to her left, indicating that he did not. "Me either," she murmured before looking at the clock above her strange cooking device. "It's 6:30. I'd better call Harry. I already took the rest of the week off and have my staff covering the bookstore."

Draco slightly nodded his head in return. Not being able to talk was a fucking drag. At least Potter could help them communicate. That would be a start.

After a brief - for Granger - explanation of what she called a 'mobile phone', she placed her call. Draco grinned to himself at how nervous she sounded, and she certainly didn't tell Harry what he was 'urgently needed' for. If he weren't part of the drama, it might have been very interesting to sit back and watch as she tried to explain this one to 'The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die'.

* * *

><p>Hermione was trying not to be rude to her guest, but until Harry got there, she had one thing on her mind. How the hell would she explain this to him? There was no love lost between Harry and Malfoy, even after Mrs. Malfoy saved his life, and they found out that Draco had been working on their side for nearly a year before the battle at Hogwarts. It was just something that would never change.<p>

She wondered if some of it had to do with the fact that Malfoy had interviewed for a position in the Auror program and been denied, even though he had the second best N.E.W.T scores in the school. Harry, of course, had been told he needn't even interview, but he went through the motions just to be sure things were on the up and up. Hermione had always thought it was not fair, but she hadn't been involved and didn't want to be.

This slight had led to Malfoy's continued hostility, she assumed, and Harry was easy to bait. Always had been. He and Ron had that in common. However, he didn't hold a grudge like Ron. She was banking on that to get her through this conversation. Malfoy could be a prat, and he was often sneering at the lot of them, but he didn't deserve this. She just hoped the two could behave themselves long enough to get through this first conversation. It should be easier after that. _Yeah right, Hermione._

The sharp knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts and caused her to jump. She saw Malfoy looking at her, a snaky smirk on his lips, and glared at him. "You, get into my bedroom. I want to talk to Harry before I spring you on him."

Draco had no problems with that. He was fucking cold, and a few minutes in the warmth of her bed sounded like perfection. He took his time, just to show he couldn't be ordered around, but made his way to her bedroom, up the bedpost and into the warm ivory sheets. She might not have gotten much sleep last night, but she definitely had been in bed. Her scent was all over the sheets. It was only seconds before he was fast asleep in the cocoon of her warm bed.

Hermione tried to smile at Harry when she opened the door, but she assumed it looked more like a grimace. Especially after Harry crossed the threshold, a worried look on his face.

"Hermione, what is it? You sounded so worried. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Harry," Hermione assured him. "Here, let's have some tea. It's kind of a long story."

Harry looked unconvinced but let her lead him into the kitchen and pour him some tea. "Hermione, you are freaking me out," Harry said after she didn't say anything for a minute. "Just tell me. Is something wrong with you?"

"No!" Hermione said, shaking the nerves off. This was Harry. Even if he thought he was nuts, he'd love her no matter what. "Okay, so yesterday I was going to an early lunch in Diagon Alley when I ran into Draco Malfoy."

She noticed Harry's jaw clinch.

"And..." he said, his voice trying to remain calm, but she could tell he thought this story was going to go in a whole different direction.

The fact that Malfoy hurting her was his first thought was disappointing, but she could do nothing about years of resentment. It wasn't like she trusted the guy either. But in this case, he was truly helpless.

"Something's happened, Harry. Before you call me crazy, or freak out, or anything like that, just let me explain the whole thing," Hermione started.

"Okay..." Harry answered, his brow furrowing.

"When I ran into Malfoy, we were...talking for a few minutes," _yeah, that's one way to describe it_, "and then, all of a sudden, he changed." She could tell Harry wanted to interrupt, so she kept right on going. "One minute he was standing there, and the next minute he was a...snake."

"A WHAT?" Harry shouted.

"Please, let me finish," Hermione said crisply. "We don't know what happened or why, but I couldn't leave him there. He'd have been trampled to death! I scooped him up and took him home."

"He's here?" Harry cried, standing and looking around as if he would deal with this situation then and there.

"Yes," Hermione sighed in frustration. "Look, it's really him. He changed back to human form and then back into a snake twice now. We have to figure out what's happened to him. The problem is...well, I can't communicate easily with a snake. He can't speak English, after all. So I thought..."

"You want _me_ to play translator between you and a snake version of Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Look, I know how it sounds. I just wanted to talk to you before you saw him because, no matter what he did in the past, Harry, he doesn't deserve this. And I'm not giving up until I get him back to normal. So, the quicker that gets done the quicker he gets out of my life," she said, pulling her ace card, knowing that Harry would do anything for _her_, if not for Malfoy.

He finally heaved a huge sigh, "I still think you are nuts. Where is this snake?"

"In my bedroom," Hermione said, but she giggled when Harry's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Not like that, you perv. I didn't want you to walk into my apartment and see a huge white snake. I told him to hide there."

"Well, thank you for that, I guess," Harry said.

"Let's go get him," Hermione suggested, downing the rest of her tea - it was her fourth cup of the morning - and leading Harry to her bedroom. Her heart stopped in her chest when she couldn't find Malfoy. "Wh-?"

"Hermione, are you feeling okay?" Harry asked, looking around the room. Obviously, there was nothing there. "Maybe you should take a vacation. I mean, I know you love the book store, but..."

"Harry, shut it. He's in here somewhere." She looked in her closet, nothing. "Malfoy, this isn't funny. Harry's here. Now, do you want to play games, or do you want to figure out why you don't have working arms and legs?" _Nothing._

In a fit of frustration, she pulled the covers of her bed back, and gasped when she saw Malfoy curled up near her pillow, sleeping like a little snake baby. Her hand went over her mouth to keep the giggles at bay. "Malfoy!" she cried, trying to wake him. _Nothing._

"Her-Hermione, that's...that's a big snake!" Harry gasped from the other side of the bed.

"And you were expecting what? I told you he was a snake. Were you considering having me locked up in St. Mungo's?" She was toying with him, knowing very well that he had no reason to believe she wasn't insane given the story she'd told him.

"What's he doing in your bed?" Harry asked, trying to turn the tables on her.

"I imagine he's trying to cling to whatever body heat I left there. I hadn't even thought about it before, but snakes are cold-blooded animals. He's probably been freezing this whole time, and here I am, blowing the A/C at him all day and night." Hermione couldn't believe she'd forgotten such a simple thing. It seemed to be a trend of late - one she wasn't all that fond of.

She had a predicament at the moment besides her newfound stupidity. How to wake Malfoy. He wasn't responding to her voice. _I'm going to have to touch him_, she realized. _I'm going to have to touch his slimy, scaly skin, and it's going to be gross. _Taking a deep breath, she let it out before reaching out to touch him.

His skin was cool, but not slimy. Scaly, but kind of a nice texture. Interesting, anyway. She shook her head and resolutely ignored Harry who looked like he was about to laugh. _Yuck it up, asshole._ She slid her fingers gently over Malfoy's new skin, not wanting to scare him, but it was having no affect. "Malfoy," she called, again, this time shaking him gently.

His eyes snapped open and she jumped back when he hissed at her. Harry was by her side in a second. "Back off, Malfoy!" he yelled, but Hermione pushed him out of the way.

"He was startled, Harry. Leave him alone." Harry looked at her like she was nuts, but kept silent. "Sorry to wake you," she turned back to Malfoy. "Harry was having a bit of trouble believing me."

Draco inwardly smirked at that. After he realized where he was, and shook off the embarrassment of being found in Granger's bed by her and Potter, he decided he was going to play confident. What did he care about Harry fucking Potter? The guy was a self-righteous asshole. As long as he translated and kept his mouth shut to everyone else, things would be fine.

"Er, Malfoy, I guess you should try talking. See if this even works," Harry said, shifting uncomfortably next to Granger.

"I'd rather we take this into the living room. I can't think properly in here," she said, leading the way out the door.

Draco watched Potter leave before he began to go as well. One last sniff of his comfortable post and he slithered out of the room and joined them in the living room. Hermione sat on the couch and he took a spot next to her while Potter sat in the armchair to the right. He thought long and hard about what he should say first - to try out his speech - and finally settled on, "Can you ask Granger to turn the air conditioning down?"

Potter's eyes grew ten times in size, and it was enough to make Draco laugh. He didn't know what it sounded like to the two people staring at him, but it was a laugh as far as he was concerned.

"Well, I guess I _do_ still remember Parseltongue," Potter said, still staring at Draco dumbly.

Draco would normally have been patient with someone trying to help. This was crazy town territory, after all. But he hated Potter, so he couldn't help himself. "Are you going to stare at me or relay my message?" he asked, feeling more confident with his speech. The icy glare Potter sent his way pleased him immensely.

"Malfoy requests that you turn down the air conditioning," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"I'm shocked he knows what air conditioning is," Hermione muttered, but she immediately got up and flipped a knob on a panel that made the horrendous cold wind cease.

_You pick up a few things when you travel all over the world_, Draco thought. He might not have known what her 'mobile phone' did, but being stuck in a Muggle hotel on one family trip to Egypt taught him all about air conditioners. Quite ingenious, if you weren't a cold-blooded reptile. He would have said 'thank you', but it seemed a strange thing to have translated.

Hermione started into her questions right away. "Okay, now, there are a few things I need to know. I agree that we should go to the Manor, but I have no idea how we are going to get there. I know the kind of blood wards you probably keep on the house," she said, shivering at and the thought.

Draco felt a pang of something in his chest but pushed it away. The past was the past. No use worrying about it now. He interrupted her, turning to Potter as he explained his plan.

The black haired boy sighed, almost as if he was pouting, but continued with the translation. "He said that you should wait until he changes back again, and then he can Apparate you in and the wards will accept you."

Hermione nodded. "What if you don't change back?" she asked, her voice nervous as if such a suggestion might cause him to attack her.

"Let's cross that bridge if we get to it," he said, and Potter dutifully translated. As much as he hated the git's presence, it was nice to have the 'prince' of the Wizarding world at his beck and call. He must really love Granger to put himself through this. _Shows what happens when you are born with those pathetic Gryffindor sensibilities, eh?_

"Okay," Hermione said, sighing with relief. She was just glad a fight hadn't broken out. Harry was pissed, and it was coming off him in waves. To be honest, though, she was just glad he was doing this at all. As much anger as Draco might have had about the Auror situation, Draco _was_ the boy who taunted and tormented Harry for seven years.

"Next, I'm wondering what you were doing right before you ran into me. I want to rule out any possibility of a potion," she explained.

It took Malfoy a moment but then the hissing started again and Harry furrowed his brow in concentration, not wanting to miss any word. It was a fairly lengthy explanation, from what she could tell, and she waited patiently until Harry finally turned back to her.

"He says that the night before he'd been at a gathering with Blaise Zabini. He had one drink there, and he watched the tender prepare it. After that, he went home with a companion and he had just dropped her off when he ran into you," Harry explained.

"A companion? Well, did you have anything to drink with her?" Hermione asked. She could have sworn Malfoy snorted before answering.

"He said," Harry blushed and cleared his throat before finishing, "he didn't drink anything after taking her home that she didn't produce naturally."

_Oh. Eww. _She tried her best, but she couldn't control the blush that crept up her cheeks. Her damn body always gave her away. "Well, as needlessly graphic as that was...What was her name? She could have slipped you something."

"He doesn't know," Harry said. "He just brought some tramp home from one of those Slytherin parties and she probably gave him some sort of STD that turns you into a snake."

Hermione was certain Harry added that last bit himself, especially as Draco hissed at him.

"Oh fuck off," Harry finally said. "You did this to yourself. And now you've got Hermione taking off work and nursing you while you suffer from some sick sexual disease."

Hermione cleared her throat to direct both of their attentions back to her. "While it's bad practice to invite people you don't know back to your house," she said to Malfoy, "there is no such disease," she aimed that part of the sentence to Harry. "She's still a suspect, but what Malfoy does on his own time is his business and he doesn't deserve _this_ because of it."

She didn't know why the thought that he'd been fucking a no-name girl just a few nights ago got to her, but underneath her bravado, she felt a tightness in her chest. It was totally stupid. She knew he'd gone through his share of women. She'd heard rumblings. However, it was different to know about it in the abstract, and knowing firsthand how little he seemed to care _whom_ he slept with. _Get it together!_ Who and what Malfoy stuck his cock in was of no concern to her, whatsoever. They had bigger problems.

"I still say you let St. Mungo's deal with this, Hermione. What are you going to do? Quit your job?" Harry reasoned.

"No," Hermione answered. "I've taken the week off. That gives me today, tomorrow, and the weekend to work on this. If I need more time, I can work something out. I own the place, Harry, it's not like I can't hire more people if needed. But I can't take him to St. Mungo's. You know how they are there. And he's a Malfoy!"

"I'm right here!" Draco snapped, but Harry was ignoring him. He was too busy trying to convince Granger to pawn him off. Draco was quite proud of her that she didn't fold. The last thing he needed was to leave it up to the huns at St. Mungo's to figure this out. Add that to the list of things he was grateful to her for. As if he needed more. It felt uncomfortable to owe someone like that. The only other people he felt he'd 'owed' were dead. Dumbledore, for believing in him, and Snape for helping him out of the abyss. Now, there was Granger who was risking her sanity and possibly her friendships to help him.

They were in a heated discussion on the perks and dangers of helping him when he slithered out of the room and into the bedroom. It was the warmest room in the house after all. Let them argue. He had faith that Granger wouldn't drop him, and Potter's voice was giving him a headache.

He was pissed at Potter anyway. Really, he was perpetually pissed at Potter. It was like a state of being. But he was particularly pissed about his accusation that he had some sort of sexual disease. If he had any sexual disease it was being too good at it, thank you very much! That dumb girl he brought back to the manor wouldn't know how to hex him if her life depended on it, let alone come up with some 'time release' potion to ruin his life.

It was in the middle of plotting Potter's demise from the comfort of Hermione's bed that the tingling started again. "Granger, clothes!" he shouted when he had his body back. He wrapped one of Granger's soft sheets around him, protecting his modesty. Within a few seconds, Granger and Potter entered the bedroom, and she threw his clothes at him.

"Merlin, Malfoy, are you obsessed with Hermione's bed or something," Potter said, a stupid smirk on his face.

"Are you obsessed with who's in Granger's bed or something?" Draco countered, pulling on his clothes with as much dignity as possible.

"Girls, you are both pretty," Granger said tiredly. "Now, there's no time to waste. We need to get to the Manor before you change back."

"You're not really going, are you?" Potter sputtered. The look Granger gave him was priceless.

"Of course, I am," she replied.

"Pack a bag. We might not be leaving for a few days," Draco said, as he tugged his shoes on. She just nodded and started throwing things in an overnight back.

"Hermione, listen to reason. You can't stay with him. What if he..."

"What if he what?" Granger asked. "Hisses at me?"

"Look, Potter, I'm not going to hurt her. She's helping me." He hated having to talk to him in any civil manner, but how the hell was he going to get out of here and back home if he held them up until he changed back. He'd already given up the hope that he'd just stay human.

"Hermione, you can't go alone," Potter insisted. "I'll go to the Chief Auror."

"And tell them what?" Granger asked, almost amused.

"Hermione, think about this," Potter pled.

"Malfoy, can you add Harry to the wards, just until this is over? That way he can know that I'm safe and we can get out of here," Granger asked, her tone irritated, but it was at Potter and not him, so that was a plus.

He didn't want to do it. It went against everything he believed in. But the truth was, Potter's skills would probably be needed again, so it was inevitable. "Fine. But he better announce himself before he comes over."

"Is that acceptable, Harry?" Granger said, turning back to Harry.

The black haired git didn't look pleased, but he really didn't have a leg to stand on. "Fine. But if he tries anything..."

"You'll be the first to know. Now, let's go," she said, taking Draco by the hand. "Harry, I'll Floo you this afternoon."

"You better," Potter said, but Draco had already begun Apparating them to his childhood home.


	6. Inheritance

**Inheritance**

"Ugh," Hermione groaned as they sat down on plush carpet in what appeared to be a sitting room. "I hate side-along," she muttered.

"Me too," Malfoy agreed, letting go of her hand. She hadn't noticed how warm it felt in hers until it was gone. _Get your shit together, Granger,_ she told herself, stepping a little further away to take in her surroundings.

When she had last been here, the place was cold and dark. She remembered how the surfaces, or at least the ones her body was dragged across by the snatchers, were harsh. Now, it seemed totally different. It had a modern feel, something she hadn't been expecting. Even if it _had_ been redecorated, as he said, she was expecting gold plated cherubs and opulent furniture. She was surprised at how clean, comfortable, and inviting it was. Not what she remembered, and certainly not what she expected. The ivory carpet at her feet was enough to make her want to kick her shoes off and feel it between her toes. She refrained, however.

She noticed Draco smirking at her, and blushed, turning her head. _Yeah, laugh it up, snaky! _"It's very nice," she said, pulling together her dignity. "Warmer than I remember."

His eyes softened and he took a deep breath. "Granger, about that. I..."

"No," Hermione said, swallowing hard. "It's in the past. Please, let's leave it there. I know you couldn't do anything."

He looked at her long and hard for a moment, as if trying to understand something and finally let the topic go. Before they could move any further, though, a house elf wearing a pillowcase - though, decidedly much cleaner than Dobby's - appeared. "Master is home!" he or she cried.

"Yes, Martin," Malfoy said formally to the elf. "Before you go on, please let me explain a few things. Miss Granger is my personal guest, and should be treated as you would treat me."

_Martin? _Hermione wondered to herself. Not anything like the names she'd heard from the many house elves she'd met. It almost made her giggle. Draco was relaying his situation to the tiny elf as she considered his appearance. Clearly, the elf was not free. He had no clothes. She frowned at that. On the other hand, Malfoy was neither being cruel, nor friendly, to the elf. That was clearly an improvement on his father's attitude toward house elves.

"Is that okay, Granger?" Malfoy asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Ummm, what?" He smirked that stupid smirk at her, and she wanted to punch him in the fucking face.

"I said we should show you to your rooms, and then to the library. If I change, I don't want you getting lost. Martin will help, but you know how elves can be," he said, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"Sounds good," she said, haughtily, ignoring his teasing tone. She was on his turf now, and he obviously felt more comfortable in it. She'd have to be on her toes.

"Wait, Master!" Martin cried. "The post! Much has come since you've been gone."

"That's fine. We'll open it after Miss Granger gets settled," Draco said, dismissing the elf with a wave. He felt Granger's gaze on him and rolled his eyes before smirking at her.

"Before you ask, no, he's not free. He'd kill himself if I tried to give him clothes. And no, he's not my best friend. He's an elf. He likes serving, and I let him serve." He just knew she had a pro-elf tirade coming, and he really didn't want to be lectured.

"Actually, Malfoy, what I was going to say is that 'Martin' is a very unusual name for an elf. And he seems to have a much better understanding of the English language than I've heard from other elves." Draco couldn't help it, he burst into laughter. That was not what he'd expected.

"Oh, Granger, you are funny. Look, I don't know how he got the name. But, there it is. I've got a little elf who works in the kitchen named Katherine, too. They both speak normally. It's just how they were raised, I guess."

Hermione giggled at that. "Look, I know that elves don't want to be freed now. It makes me sad that their whole life is serving, but what can I do. As long as you are nice to them, I have no issue," Hermione explained as she followed him down the corridor.

"They are very happy," he assured her. "So, we are in my wing of the house. There are two wings," he explained. The Death Eater activity all took place in the other wing. He didn't visit it much...even after the redecoration. "My room is down at the end, and this is your room."

Hermione nodded and followed him as he entered the room. Her jaw dropped before she could stop it. It was like a five star hotel. Decorated in ivory, green, and gold, the room was beautiful. "This is very nice, Malfoy. Thank you." She noticed that he smiled genuinely at that, and is eased her a bit. Her shoulders relaxed and she let out a deep breath.

"I informed Martin to raise the temperature in the house, but you are more than welcome to keep this room cool," he explained.

"I understand. I'm sorry about last night..."

He cut her off with a shake of the head. "It's not a big deal. I'm going to go take the world's fastest shower and change. Let's hope I can remain...myself long enough to take you to the library." Hermione nodded, still looking around to room. "You have your own bathroom just in there," he pointed at a doorway on the other side of the room. "I'll be back to collect you, or Martin will."

With that, he was gone and Hermione was left alone in his amazing guest room. _I could honestly live like this_, she thought to herself as she set her bag on the bed and made her way to the bathroom.

_Holy fucking shit. _It made the prefect's bathroom look like a tiny cubicle. Besides the multi-headed shower and two-sink vanity, there was a bathtub big enough for a family of four to comfortably swim in. _I could live here. I could die here._ All of a sudden, Hermione was not looking forward to going back to her cramped apartment.

She didn't have time for a bath, though she definitely had intimate plans for it later, so she stripped quickly and took the fastest shower she could manage. As she lathered, rinsed and dried off, she couldn't help but think how surreal the entire situation was. Just a few days ago, she hadn't given Draco Malfoy a second thought, but here she was, staying in his house, helping him with a very serious problem. Not to mention, she'd seen a _lot_ more of him than she'd ever expected.

He wasn't all that bad. Funny even, at times. But he was still Malfoy, and now they were in _his _comfort zone. Best she not forget that. Pulling on a pair of comfortable jean shorts and a tank top, she cast a cooling charm on her room. It was already getting hot in there. Cooling charms weren't as good as her central air, but it would have to work for the next few days.

Only moments later, Malfoy came to collect her, looking fresh, clean, and surprisingly casual. Every time she'd seen him, he was either impeccably dressed, or in his school uniform. Now, he was wearing lounge pants and a tee shirt. She was sure her eyes doubled when she saw him. _And he looked good_. There was no denying it - no telling herself to shut up. Some things were just facts. Indisputable facts. She was nothing if not aware of the facts. _Fact: Draco Malfoy was well put together._

Draco was busy looking the Gryffindor Princess up and down while she was ogling him. She had legs that went on for days, a thing he'd never noticed before. If she wasn't Granger, he'd definitely have been interested in seeing those legs wrapped around him...He really didn't have time to let his mind wander down that route. His minutes were numbered as far as he knew, and he needed to get them both to the library before he became Slytherin's mascot all over again.

To cut the uncomfortable silence that formed as she followed him toward the library, he said, "The library is also in my wing, though it's on the first floor."

"It's so big," Granger said, looking around. "I knew it was, but..."

"Yeah, you get used to it," Draco replied with a shrug.

"I doubt it," she laughed. "Even if I lived here for 20 years, I'd never remember how to get anywhere."

"Well, growing up, there were many rooms I wasn't allowed in, so my section of the house was small," he said, frowning. He hadn't even intended to say something so revealing. Unfortunately, he'd found he was very open with Granger, even when he didn't want to be.

"Here we are," he said, glad to have reached their destination so he could stop the conversation. Anything about his family was dangerous territory. Granger hated them anyway. Well, at least his father. He guessed that was something else they had in common.

Her breath caught when he ushered her into the room, and he couldn't help the smile that crept across his face. _Oh yeah, Granger's going to come in her pants_, he thought to himself. He figured she was probably disappointed that she couldn't spend the rest of her life in there. "Let me show you around a bit. It's catalogued much like the Hogwarts library was, so you should be okay, should I change back."

She nodded at him, her mouth still open with shocked delight. She was actually very pretty this way. _Keep your mouth shut and your clothes tight, and you are a catch, Granger. _He almost laughed aloud at his own thoughts. He knew little about Granger's romantic entanglements, but he had a feeling she wasn't into no-strings sex. He was insane to think about it anyway.

She turned around to him, seeming to have gotten herself a bit under control, and said, "I've contacted Professor Flitwick about a charm to help you with the pages. I couldn't think of anything on my own that could be done without some sort of verbal queue."

"You didn't tell him about me, did you?" Draco asked, suddenly worried that the news would be out by the Evening Post. Not that he thought Flitwick a gossip, but who knew?

"No," she rushed to assure him. "Of course not. I'd never betray your trust, Malfoy. I'm not a gossip."

He felt slightly guilty for implying that he thought she was.

"I used no names, and asked that he give me hypothetical advice. He will know there is something going on, but he'll have no idea what, exactly."

Draco just nodded. "Well, shall we?" he said, pointing toward the transfiguration section.

"Let's," Granger said nodding in determination.

_Well, if anyone can figure this out, it'll be her, Draco thought._

* * *

><p>Hermione was fascinated with his selection of books. The bed, bath, and books were enough to make her want to beg him to take her in. Living with Malfoy would be a small price to pay for the three new loves of her life.<p>

Eventually, she remembered that she was there for a purpose and settled next to Malfoy at a table in the center of the large room, a hefty Transfiguration book in hands. And, hey, if she'd never read it before, that was just a perk.

Malfoy was skimming his own tome next to her. They were both waiting for it. As much as they knew it would be better to get in as much research as they could while he was still human, they were both too caught up in the anticipation of what would happen when he _did_ finally change back into snake form.

It was one thing to be in her apartment. There was nowhere to be alone, and she knew the place. It was her comfort zone. Now, she'd be in Malfoy Manor, a place that held nothing but nightmare for her before now. And she would likely be left alone there. She certainly didn't expect him to want to 'hang out' with her once he'd changed back. He was in his own home now. He didn't need to follow her around anymore.

Sighing, she tried to concentrate again. It seemed Malfoy was struggling with concentration just as much. "I want you to know, I don't make it a habit of bringing witches back here." _Where the hell did that come from?_ He wanted to slam his mouth shut the moment he opened it, but it was out there now. He'd just been sitting there, staring at the words in front of him _needing_ something to say, when it just burst out like verbal diarrhea. _Perfect, Draco. Let's bring that awkward conversation back up._

"What you do is your business," Granger replied, pretending to continue reading. He knew she hadn't read so much as a full sentence since they sat down. Neither had he. It was too strange. Hermione Granger was sitting in his family library. _Mind blown_.

Well, he was already standing in the muck of this conversation, so he might as well finish it, right? "I just mean, regardless of what Potter seems to think, I'm not a man-whore." He smirked when he saw her shift uncomfortable in her seat.

"Good to know," Hermione said, "but I find it hard to believe this is the first time you've gone home with someone. It's not my business what you do one your free time. Just be careful what you stick your wand in. Wouldn't want it to fall off."

She smirked at him and he was shocked that she'd made such a joke. He'd always assumed she was an uptight prude. Maybe she was, but she did, at least, have a sense of humor.

"Noted," he replied, turning back to his book. It was hopeless. He _knew_ he needed to focus. He only had precious minutes in this form, but the situation was too weird. Maybe after a few hours he'd get used to having her in his house.

Figuring they were on the topic anyway, he brought up the dreaded topic. Truth be told, he was curious as hell. "So, what about you and the Weasel? Potter's letter made it seem like you were on the outs, but I thought for sure the two of you were going to get married, the way you made gooey eyes at each other in school." It was gross, really, how they were. Hermione was brilliant and Ron Weasley was dumb as a post. He'd never get it. He might have been attractive in a bulky sort of way, but all that red hair? _Ewww_.

His playful pushing was obviously not welcome, though. Granger stiffened next to him and cleared her throat. "I don't see how it's any of your business."

"So, it was a bad break up, was it?" Draco pushed with an evil smirk.

"Oh shut it, Malfoy. Leave me alone," she pouted.

It was damned adorable. _Oh, I've got to find out what happened._ Instead of focusing on his problems, he turned his attention to her. "Come on, Granger. Who am I going to tell?"

She shifted again and focused on the book in front of her, pretending to ignore him. He knew better though, the faint blush on her cheeks proved to him that she was thinking about whatever happened between her and the youngest Weasley boy.

"We broke up, okay?" she said, sighing in frustration. "Let it go."

"Who did the dumping?" Draco pushed. What did he have to lose?

"I broke up with him," she said, her voice tight.

"Ohhh," Draco said nearly grinning. "Was he not up to standard?"

"Damnit, Malfoy. Can't you see I don't want to talk about it? We wanted different things, okay? It's over. Done. Let it go," she hissed at him, her blush turning her cheeks into an enraged red. He really needed to learn when to stop.

"Well, I'm just curious. If you just wanted different things, why did Potter say he wouldn't be at their little function Saturday night?" he pushed. He really was a glutton for punishment.

"Fuck off, Malfoy. Do you want to sit here and badger me about things that are none of your business, or do you want to figure out why you keep turning into a bloody snake?"

Well, she had a point there. He dropped it after the, feeling an annoying tingling in the back of his head, making him wonder why he didn't press her further. The old Draco Malfoy would have.

Hermione was decidedly annoyed. It had been well over an hour and he still wasn't a snake. As much as she wanted him out of her life at the moment, she knew his problems were not over, and he was missing the quiet of Malfoy in snake form. But she couldn't focus. Her head was hurting the thoughts of Ronald Weasley now, and she wanted nothing more than to make Malfoy as uncomfortable as she was. "What about your father's death, do you know what you're going to do..."

"About what?" he snapped. "He's dead. The end."

"I don't think it works like that. He was your father," Hermione pointed out.

Malfoy sneered at that. "And he ruined my life!" He pulled up the left sleeve of his shirt, baring the faded dark mark that was still there. "This is what he left me. Now, enough." He seemed to be radiating aggravation, and she had to admit, she was surprised he didn't hex her for pushing the issue.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry..." she started, but didn't finish. His head snapped up to hers, his eyes wide.

"It's happening," he said, his voice soft but intense.

"Okay," Hermione said. "I'll be here." She didn't know what else to say. It was sad, actually. This man was in a constant state of uncertainty with no clue how to fix it, or even where to start looking. "Here, until Flitwick gets back to us, why don't we share..." she said, placing the book in her hands on the table and pushing it toward him.

His smooth white body slithered up the back of her chair and she controlled the urge to shudder as she got used to his new body. Folding his clothing neatly, and setting them on the chair he'd been occupying, she turned back to the book, trying to focus this time.

She shuddered for an entirely different reason when she felt Malfoy's snake body move against the bare skin of her arm as he got comfortable wrapped around her chair, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. _I guess he can't hold his head up indefinitely_, she told herself. His body was cold against her own, and she took several deep breaths, trying to ignore the intimacy of the position they were now in. It actually felt kind of good, his body against hers. She never thought that would happen, especially not in snake form. _This is going to be a long weekend._

Draco had no other choice. The only way to read the book was over her shoulder, and the only way to do that was to wrap himself around her. If he thought being a snake would make him less aware of the human form, he was wrong. Even if it _was_ Granger, she was a woman, and that smell..._damn_.

Finally, it seemed Hermione had used every ounce of her self-control and focused on the task at hand. If she could do it, so could he. Peering down at the words in front of him, he could tell she was looking for anything on Patronus transfiguration. The Index was turning up nothing. She sighed in frustration and turned to the chapter on 'Animal Transfiguration', muttering 'useless' to herself.

He concurred. He hated to lose hope, but he'd never heard of anything like what was happening to him. Still, he pressed on, reading every word that she read, hoping, just like she was that a new page would uncover some sort of insight.

They were engrossed in the text, so much so, that when Martin popped into the library with a tray of food and parchment Granger nearly jumped out of her skin and Draco's hold on her tightened. "Malfoy...can you...loosen," she said, pulling on his body where it had begun wrapping around her out of frightened instinct.

He immediately moved from her, until he was back in his original position over her shoulders. "Sorry to frighten, Master," Martin chirped. "I brought lunch and the post."

"Thank you, Martin," Hermione said, smiling at the elf. When he just stood there looking at her, she looked at Malfoy who was looking up from her right shoulder, mirth in his black eyes. "Ummm, you may go?" she tried, and Martin smiled before popping out of the room.

"Stop laughing, Malfoy. I don't own slaves. I haven't the first idea how to order them around." She stuck her nose in the air and turned to lunch, but she noticed Malfoy's eyes caught something other than food. "What is it?" she asked, stupidly, knowing he couldn't speak.

Following his line of sight, she saw what he was looking at. On top of a stack of newspapers and various letters was on from Azkaban Prison. It was from his father.

"Do you want me to open it?" Granger asked after several moments. _Did he?_ He didn't know if he did. On the one hand, it was the first letter his father had bothered to write him since he'd been locked away. On the other hand, nothing in that letter could be good. Had he known he was going to die? Draco still didn't know what had happened. He was avoiding it as long as he could, but as the letter stared back at him, he wondered if it wasn't time to man up.

He looked Granger in the eyes, drawing strength from her and turned his head to her right, indicating 'yes'. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the letter and slipped her finger under the lip to open it. She seemed as nervous as he, but he pushed the ridiculous thought from his head.

He gathered his thoughts, reminding himself that whatever his father had to say, it wouldn't change anything, and began to read.

'_Draco,_

_I've been remiss in waiting to write to you. I never knew what to say. At first, I was so angry with you for betraying me. Then...well, life is far too short to give up on family. I'm too late in learning this lesson. I put family last. I put my career and political convictions before you and your mother for years. You know that, of course.'_

Oh, Draco knew it. He was never more than an accessory for his father to wear proudly when he behaved, and be ashamed of when he didn't.

'_I need you to pay very close attention to what I'm about to reveal to you. As a practical matter, this information is always relayed on the deathbed of the Head of the Malfoy family. I am on my deathbed. You are my Heir, and it is with a heavy heart that I write to you about your birthright.'_

What the fuck?

'_When I am gone, it will fall to you to oversee the Malfoy name. Of course, you have the money and the property already, but there is more. You see, we have a genetic trait, a magical calling and inheritance. We are different. You will know the minute I am gone because you will change. We are the only known Animorphi. Upon becoming head of the family, we go through a change. Usually this is easy to control, but for you...I'm afraid it will not be so simple.'_

His head hurt. All of this was some crazy Malfoy inheritance? As if that bastard hadn't ruined his life enough!

'_This is important, my son. This isn't perm...'_

Isn't what! Permanent? It just ends there? What the fucking good did that do? His heart was racing. Even if this wasn't the same as being human the feeling of a complete panic attack was. He felt like he was going to black out at any moment. This was too much. How was he to fix this when the only person who knew anything about it was now dead?


	7. What Now?

**What Now?**

Hermione's curiosity was prickling at her, begging her to read Draco's letter, but she knew it was rude, so she refrained. Instead, she focused on the book in front of her. There was one case of a man who turned into a rat, and then back into a man two months later. But the situation was totally different. It turned out that an elderly witch had poisoned his food after he'd slighted her daughter. A rat for a few months, then back to normal. No ill effects. Nothing.

That couldn't be it. Besides, they'd mostly ruled out potions. As Severus Snape's godson and a former Death Eater, he most likely was not prone to drinking _anything_ that he hadn't kept his eyes on or had one of his own elves prepare. In fact, she remembered that he'd sniffed her tea before putting it to his lips the first time as well. Potion was, most definitely out.

The little tart he'd dropped off that morning was probably, as he said, not smart enough to navigate around a coffee table, let alone pull of a complex hex that _she_ had never even heard of. Which left them at a dead end. Transfiguration didn't look like it was going to get them anywhere either. The problem was, she didn't know where to go from there.

She was pulled from her inner musings by Malfoy's pointy snake head tapping incessantly on her shoulder. She shook her head and turned to him. "What?" she asked uselessly, knowing he couldn't answer her.

He pointed his head at something on his father's letter. "You want me to read it?" she asked, her brow furrowing. She just assumed Draco would want privacy when he read his father's last letter. It was a heavy thing to deal with, and she didn't want to intrude. It was none of her business, after all. She knew that, when her parents died, she really didn't want to share that with anyone. Not that Malfoy's experience was anything like hers.

_No,_ Draco thought, _I just like throwing my neck out for the fun of it_. He sighed in frustration as she looked at him curiously. Of course, she was just trying to give him space, and under normal circumstances, he'd appreciate it. But this was serious. He needed another brain working on the issue or he'd never figure it out. Luckily Granger's brain was bigger than most.

Perhaps, in all her time with her nose buried in a book, she'd have heard of this _Animorphi_ thing. That was the hope at least. He pushed his nose toward the parchment again, hoping she got the message. Finally, she did.

Hermione read the letter once, twice, then three times. Of course, Lucius Malfoy would be the kind of bastard that didn't give up the important information...or at least died before he could. The blood spatters on the paper were enough to tell her that this letter was the last thing he ever did. She could at least give him credit for that. He _tried_ to warn his son, even if it was too little too late.

_Animorphi..._The word didn't mean anything to her, but it reminded her of a Muggle scientific term "anamorphus" but that was a change in the earth's surface. What the hell could it be? Obviously, breaking it down, "ani" was animal and "morph" was well...morph. _That_ was easy enough. The question was, what caused it and how would they fix it? Lucius mentioned that it would be harder for Draco...why?

"Okay," she finally said, taking a deep breath. "At least we have a place to start." She could work this out just like anything else. There was a solution. She'd find it. "We will work this out. It's not permanent. We just have to figure out how to make it stop, or control it." She didn't know if she was reassuring him, or herself. The more she thought about it, the more she felt sorry for Malfoy - not that she'd ever tell him that. Pity would probably piss him off more than anything.

The thing was, Lucius Malfoy had been ruining Draco's life since day one. She had no proof, but she had a strong idea that Draco had been cowering in his father's shadow since birth. Then there was forcing his son to become a Death Eater. No matter what happened in the end, that mark on his left forearm would affect Draco's life forever. Now, when he finally thought he'd be free of the man, there was some ridiculous family trait that turned him into a bloody snake. Regardless of the past, Hermione had to admit, Malfoy was getting a raw deal.

It didn't mean he wasn't still an ass. She sighed in frustration as Draco kept tapping her shoulder. "I'm thinking," she hissed in aggravation. "We just have to come at this logically." If he'd give her a minute, she could come up with some kind of plan of action.

The 'pop' of Martin entering the library nearly gave her a heart attack. As she clutched her chest to get her heart going again, she noticed he was handing her an envelope. "Miss Granger, a letter for you." She turned over the envelope and saw the Hogwarts seal and realized what it was.

"Thank you, Martin," she smiled. "It's from Professor Flitwick," she said turning back to Malfoy who had settled over her shoulders again, obviously not taking her snapping at him personally. She slipped her finger into the lip of the envelope, quickly, pulling out the letter.

Draco scanned the beginning of the letter, leaving the high-level charms-speak to Granger. He'd done well in the class, but it never interested him like DADA and Potions. Though, he wished he'd given a little more attention to Transfiguration. Perhaps, then, he could just transfigure himself human until they figured this out.

So, as she read the letter, making notes on a spare piece of paper as she did, Draco went back to the problem at hand. What was happening to him was a family 'inheritance', meaning that all his forefathers had changed like he had upon death of the head of the Malfoy family. Unfortunately, that meant that anyone who had gone through this was long gone by now.

The next question, regardless of tradition, why hadn't his father warned him about this before now? He could have prepared. They could have talked about the cure, and it could have been simple. Now, he was on his own (minus Granger), and supposedly a more complicated case than most. If he didn't think his father was a first class git before, he certainly did now.

So, what made him different? He was younger? No, Lucius was nineteen when his father died. He had the Dark Mark? No, his father already had that by the time he became head of the household too. There had to be something...he'd have to look back into the ancestry and find the difference.

"Okay," Granger said, placing Flitwick's note aside and finishing up her notes on whatever he'd written. "I can make a charm that would work whenever I activate it on a particular book. You only would have to tap the page with your tongue and it will flip. It will take me some time though."

Draco nodded his head the best he could and slithered down the chair and off her shoulders. It was pointless to stick around in this form without the ability to at least read. Reading over her shoulder would do no good. Besides, the scent of her was overwhelming. If he stayed there too long, he might do something stupid.

"I'll just find you, in your room, when I figure this out, okay?" Granger said. He turned his head to her right, indicating that that was fine and made his way out of the room.

Hermione turned her attention back to her notes. Pulling out another parchment, she penned down the 'key points of the case'.

**_1. Animorphi_**** is a genetic trait**

**2. It presents itself once the head of house comes to inherit the legacy (in other words when his father dies)**

**3. Something about Malfoy is different than the former heads of house**

**4. This difference is related to his ability to change back to human permanently (hypothetically, Lucius' letter alluded but never finished)**

**5. Do Draco's changes (back and forth) have a trigger? Look into it.**

After outlining the most important things to look into, she turned back to the texts before her. None of this was going to work. They weren't dealing with Transfiguration anymore. Now, this was some bizarre Pureblood thing. More than that, a Malfoy thing. She'd have to find out if this had happened - or was still happening - in other Pureblood families. She'd have to look into it. Maybe the Weasleys knew something about it.

After sending back the books they'd been reading to where they belonged, she decided it was worth a try to see if she could summon any books containing information about the 'Animorphi'. "Accio Animorphi books"...nothing. _Well, it was worth a shot_. Sighing, she tapped her quill against the tabletop thinking of her next move.

* * *

><p>Draco was pleased to find his room was the toastiest in the house. Sighing with relief, he slithered up the thick wood post at the foot of his king-sized bed and under the dark greed duvet. Green was his favorite color, but it had nothing to do with his house affiliation. His entire room was shades of dark green, gold, and beige. It was more masculine than the guest room Granger was using, but set up much the same way.<p>

It was comfortable. It had taken him a long time to decide how he wanted it. In his childhood, his mother did these sorts of things, and really, he spent the majority of his time at Hogwarts, so it didn't matter. Now that the house was his and he had control, he'd taken great care in these sorts of decorative decisions. Had he known being a Malfoy also entailed turning into a huge fucking snake, he'd have at least prepared for it. As it was, he was just glad magic allowed him to control the temperature of the rooms. _Always the optimist, Draco._

He went over and over everything again, but came up with nothing. He wasn't alive when his father must have gone through this, and as an only child, he had no idea what it was like for the Malfoy men before him. He was coming up with nothing. Couldn't his stupid father have spit out the secret in the beginning of his letter and left the sappy nonsense for the end?

It wasn't until Martin popped in with his dinner that he realized how late it had gotten. It was nearly eight already. "Master, your dinner. I didn't wish to disturb you." Draco said nothing because he couldn't, but just nodded his head.

Martin smiled and popped back out of the room, leaving Draco to his thoughts. His head hurt from all the unknowns. Swallowing the boneless chicken breast that Katherine had prepared him, he decided to let his mind wander from his snake problem. There was nothing he could do there until Granger worked out the charm for research. He had an idea of where he _might_ find a lead, but he'd have to wait until he became human again to talk to her about it...or summon Potter. _Dear Merlin!_ He hoped it didn't come to that again.

Instead, he smirked to himself, thinking of how hot Granger looked as she was engrossed in her research. The girl had no clue. The way she bit her lip in concentration should have been criminal. The perfect pout of her lips as she worked something out was edible. How had he not noticed it before? Was all that Pureblood rubbish enough to make him ignore her intense aura all those years in school? Yet another thing to hate his father for. He could probably have bedded her 10 times over by this point if he hadn't been raised with that racist rot. Oh well, it was done now. It wasn't like he could woo her as a snake, was it? Besides, Hermione didn't strike him as a 'one-night stand' kind of girl.

But she was fun to look at. Draped across her shoulders, he felt closer to her than all the brainless bimbos he's fucked and chucked since he began having sex his sixth year at Hogwarts. Pansy had been the first, but not nearly the last. He wasn't capable of commitment. His father had fucked with his brain so much he didn't even think he was able to love anything, let alone the vulnerable kind of love it would take to have a relationship. But orgasms...he could handle that.

The absolute _last_ person he'd make himself vulnerable to would be Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry fucking Potter, ex-girlfriend to the Weasel extraordinaire. It didn't matter that she'd seen him at his most vulnerable, as it was. They just came from different worlds. Would it have been nice if things were different? Sure. Perhaps, in another life - one where he wasn't so screwed up - he could have fallen for her, fucked her, loved her, married her, and she could have had his perfect little blonde babies. He chuckled to himself at the thought. God, he sounded like a soppy git.

None of this mattered because he was simply frustrated, horny, and had spent far too much time in Granger's presence. In normal circumstance, he wouldn't give her a second look. Well, maybe a second look...but not a second thought, certainly.

He continued to think, moving back to his problem, back to Hermione, and back to his problem until he felt his eyes drooping. Looking to the clock, he realized it was nearly one in the morning. He'd spent _hours_ doing nothing but running his brain. It was then that he noticed something else. On the table near the armchair by the fireplace, was a stack of black leather notebooks. They hadn't been there when he'd taken his shower that morning.

His eyes widened when he realized what they were. _The Malfoy Diaries_. He'd never read them, but he knew of them. His father had kept them locked up in his study for as long as he could remember. This had to be a sign. He didn't know how they got there, but he knew it wasn't coincidence. He wanted to read them immediately.

_Fucking buggering hell!_ He couldn't read them anymore than he could ride a broom at the moment. He'd need Hermione to open them, and then, he'd need her to charm them so he could read them. He'd have to wait until morning. He laid his head back down on the pillow and tried to let the sleep overtake him, but it was no use. He had to read those journals. Even if he didn't find what he was looking for, he had to try. He had to start. He'd never rest until he cracked those books.

Making up his mind, he moved out of the bed, letting the silk sheets slide deliciously against his skin. Maybe Granger was still up. If not, he was going to wake her. This was important.


	8. Nocturnal Collision

**Nocturnal Collision**

Hermione was ready to rip her hair out by the roots. Nothing. Not a bloody, Merlin-be-damned thing about _Animorphi_ in the whole sodding library. Well, that might not have been true. She could sit in that library and not read the same book twice for twenty years. It was too big, and she didn't know where to look.

She tried looking for stuff specific to the Malfoys, but it seemed they left that in their 'other' library because family tomes were not present. It was totally hopeless. Or at least it was for the night. She, Hermione Granger, was actually growing sick of the sight of books. Yes, she was pretty sure she needed to see a doctor about the condition.

Furthermore, she hoped Draco turned back into his human form at some point tomorrow because she was going nuts in that huge house with only herself to talk to. The house was creepy enough, even after the redecoration; she didn't need to feel alone in it as well. Besides, since this was a Malfoy problem, he might have some idea where to start. She hated to think it, but if Malfoy didn't turn back soon, she'd have to invite Harry over. _Oh yeah, that would go well._

Anyway, the earliest Harry could come would be tomorrow night so, it would be better if she got a chance to talk to Malfoy before then. Not that it wasn't nice to have him in human form for other reasons..._Hermione Granger, you are NOT thinking about Draco Malfoy's ass!_

She looked at her watch and realized she must have gone delusional with the late hour. It was already past midnight. That was the only reason she was recalling, in great detail, the blond man naked on her kitchen table. Sure, he'd proven to be not so much a prat as he once was. She even found she kind of enjoyed being in his company. And, oh fine, there was no denying that he was gorgeous. But he was Draco Malfoy. Enough said.

Standing to stretch, she didn't even bother returning the books. Usually, such a thing would annoy her to the point she'd _have_ to make sure that the books made it to their homes. But this was a private library, and she'd be back first thing in the morning. Besides, she was feeling the fatigue set in all over now. It took her a few moments, but finally she remembered her way back to the guest room Malfoy had given her to use, and climbed up the stairs to her destination.

She took a quick, efficient shower and pulled on a thin tank top and a pair of shorts from her father's university bookstore - they were her favorite - and crawled into bed. Seconds later she was breathing deeply, asleep, and content.

* * *

><p>It took little time to slither out of his room and down the hallway to Granger's room. But once he got to the door, he wondered if he was making a mistake. He might scare her to death, and that would really put a crimp in his plans to open those journals tonight. Oh, and it would suck to have her leave the manor too, he guessed.<p>

Well, he'd come this far. He might as well try. If she beat him to death with the lamp post, at least he wouldn't be locked in this hell anymore. He pushed the door open with his 'nose.' Luckily for him, the door wasn't locked. He'd never get in if he needed magic to enter. He guessed either Hermione trusted him completely, or she wanted him to be able to get in if he needed her, because Hermione Granger was not some idiot who went around leaving doors unlocked and unwarded. Not that her wards could be any match for the blood magic in the house that answered to only him.

The room was dark, meaning she was already asleep. That wasn't surprising. It was late. His pale body moved silently along the plush carpet, and he mentally congratulated himself on picking such a luxurious blend. As he approached the bed, he heard Granger's deep breathing, and was accosted by the sweet scent he'd come to know as _hers_.

He moved up the post at the foot of her bed and into the duvet that covered her. Her foot twitched as his head made contact, but she remained asleep. He knew he should have stayed away. He didn't _have_ to climb up the bed _under _the covers, but he couldn't help himself. The scent was intoxicating. _If she bottled her scent, she could make millions_, he thought to himself as he moved up her leg.

If he'd had a cock, it would have been rock hard as he heard her moan in her sleep when his body slid across the smooth skin of her leg. She flipped onto her back, nearly crushing him in the process. He should have stopped there. She was still asleep, no harm had been done, but Draco was nothing if not a glutton...for punishment and pleasure. In the new angle, he could slide up her whole body, and he continued his journey up her long legs.

The shorts she was wearing should have been criminal. Barely covering her, he could see the edge of her lace pink knickers underneath. His head rested on her thigh as his body curled around her. Her hips twitched and she moaned again. _Merlin!_ For the first time since this whole thing happened, he was glad he didn't have his cock to deal with. If he did, he probably wouldn't have been able to control the overwhelming urge to pin her to the mattress and fuck her until she passed out.

Maybe it was his snake body making him so bold, or maybe it was the fact that he'd lost his mind, but Draco was suddenly unconcerned about the journals and wholly focused on Granger's body, soft and supple in all the right places. _Holy fucking shit! Who knew Granger was hiding all this_, he thought to himself as he slithered up her body, his head now resting between two unrestrained breasts. His tongue darted out, wanting a taste, but he controlled himself. He was a snake, after all. Not to mention the things Granger would probably do to him if she caught him leering at her tits.

Willing himself up further, he noticed Hermione's breath hitching, almost like...almost like she was turned on. Whatever she was dreaming, he wanted a part of it. He finally moved in place his head resting on her shoulder as his body curled itself around her, and tried to wake her up with a flick of his tongue against her face.

Hermione knew it was a dream. It had to be, but she couldn't help but wonder why she was dreaming _this_. Yes, she'd been thinking about how sexy Malfoy was as she went to bed, but never had she had this kind of dream about him. He had her pushed down on the mattress and was lavishing her skin with kisses and nips. It was enough to make her thighs clinch and her heart race.

'_Please_," she moaned in her dream locking Draco in place with her legs. She needed this. She wanted it more than she'd wanted anything in a long time. Dream Draco wasn't the type to make her wait. Moving first to her feet, then up her legs, she felt him everywhere. His scent invaded her senses and she moaned out in pleasure. It was just a dream; she might as well enjoy it. She hadn't had sex in longer than she cared to remember. That had to be why she was prepared to dream fuck Draco Malfoy until she forgot who she was.

"_I'm going to fuck you until you scream, Granger," _dream Draco promised. She moaned again. _Yes, please._

His lips moved up her body, ignoring where she needed him most, to move up her stomach, stopping to caress her aching breasts. _Holy hell_. She felt him everywhere. It was like he was covering every inch of her body, and she was on fire. She spread her legs, wanting him inside her, but was distracted when she felt a fluttering sensation on her cheek.

_What the fuck..._ the dream was slipping. _No, come back!_ she thought as Draco's sexy, naked form drifted away and she felt herself waking. What the hell was that annoying tapping at her face, anyway?

Her eyes slowly opened as her hand came up to bat, whatever it was, away. "Ah!" she cried when she saw Malfoy's snake form staring back at her, his black eyes intense. "Wear a fucking bell!" she snapped, feeling frustrated from being awoken from her dream, embarrassed that she'd been dreaming about Malfoy when he was actually in her bed, and scared out of her wits by being awoken by a huge snake - one that seemed to have curled himself around her entire body.

Had he been a real snake, she probably would have been scared into an early grave. But, knowing he was really Draco Malfoy, she felt a tingling of something in the pit of her stomach. It was getting _way_ too hot in her cooled room. Trying her best to get her breathing under control, she turned to Malfoy, pulling at his body which was wrapped around her so she couldn't move.

"Ummm, You have to...unwind," she said, her voice a little uneven, to her dismay. The last thing she needed was for him to ever find out the kind of affect he was having on her.

It took Draco a moment to realize what she was talking about. He was too busy taking her in. But, as he felt her moving her legs, he realized he had her pretty well trapped under his winding body. He slowly unwound his body from hers, letting his body slide across her skin seductively. He felt her trembling beneath him, and he wondered how much of that was in result of his proximity. Who was he kidding? He was a fucking snake. Not the sexiest animal on the planet.

When she was able to move, he noticed that she moved away from him. It was probably a natural instinct, but it stung a bit. Now that he wasn't quite so close, he remembered why he'd invaded her bed in the first place. The journals. But how the hell would he tell her what he wanted. He really hadn't thought this through. His brain was hazy with visions of her pressed to the bed, him on top, and he couldn't speak. This was not going to work.

_Merlin's tit_, the tingling had started. Why did this always happen around her? He was in her bed, and about to change into a human. It would be great if he weren't also going to be bare-assed naked. Knowing he didn't have long, he dove under the covers, just as his body began to change back.

"Malfoy, what..." Granger started, but her sentence was cut off in a gasp when she realized he'd changed into himself in her bed. His head, as it turned out, was between her parted thighs, and she felt herself grow wet when she pulled back the covers and saw him, naked, and in such an intimate position. The two stared at each other for a long moment.

He couldn't help himself. She was aroused, he could tell. If her dilated eyes weren't enough, the musky smell of her wetness was told him so. He wanted it too much, and his self-preservation was nonexistent at the moment. Pushing himself up on his hands, he rested his body on them as he moved forward, capturing her lips in his, moaning as they finally made contact. _Damn, she tastes as good as she smells_.

He could tell he'd shocked her. Hell, he shocked himself. But after a moment of stunned silence, he felt her small hands reach around his bare back and pull him closer as she deepened the kiss.

He didn't care that he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, or that Hermione wasn't wearing much either. He didn't care that this made no sense, or that now was _not_ the time to be dry humping each other. All he could think about was her tight little body pressed against him, and her hot mouth pliant to his own.

And then it stopped, almost as suddenly as it had started. "Wait, we can't do this," Granger breathed, her eyes pressed closed like she was afraid to open them. Her breath was coming out in pants, and he knew she wanted it, not matter what she said.

"Why? It's no big deal," he said, leaning it to steal another kiss, but she dodged him, pulling away, and slipping past him to get out of the bed.

"Yes it is," she muttered to herself as she put distance between them. She could _not_ believe she'd done that. What was she thinking? What was _he_ thinking? Had she stepped into the Twilight Zone? Could he really be so horny that he'd jump her in her bed? _Not like you didn't kiss him back, Hermione._

She threw another robe she found in the bath at him. It was large and unisex, so it would do. Besides, she didn't want to see him naked anymore. She'd already shown a weak-will where he was concerned. She could punch herself in the face for being so stupid. She wasn't a cheap shag, but she was acting like one only moments ago.

When she turned around, Malfoy was covered and confused. "Granger, it's not a big..."

"Shhh," she said, shaking her head. "Let's just forget it." She didn't want to hear it 'wasn't a big deal'. Sex, to her, was. She was no virgin, but she also wasn't a one-night stand. Once they figured out what was wrong with Draco and how to fix it, he could go right back to fucking moronic twits. She crushed the feelings of jealousy that thought erupted.

"I assume you came here for a reason, other than to scare the hell out of me," she said, sitting in the armchair far from him. Space was best at the moment. She might take sex seriously, but it didn't mean she wasn't extremely horny at the moment. _Damn blond git._

Draco, on the other hand, was beyond the point of frustrated. He was hard as a rock and annoyed at being denied what he wanted. She'd been so into it moments ago, he was sure he was going to buried inside her as soon as he could get her scandalous shorts and knickers off. Then...nothing. Not to mention, when she moved out of the bed, he got a better look at all that delicious skin. He'd admit it. Hermione Granger was a fucking knock out. Her mussed hair and swollen lips only added to the attraction. She looked well and truly fucked, and he'd been close to making that a reality.

Since it appeared that the kissing was over for the night, he willed his erection to deflate and turned his attention back to the reason he'd come to her. "Two things," he said, not even bothering to plead his case again. Granger was having none of it. Her closed expression was enough to tell him to tread lightly. "One, the Malfoy Diaries just appeared to me in my room, and two, I thought we might consider asking some of the ancestor's portraits about my...condition."

Hermione's thoughts of sex and naked Malfoy were gone when she realized that he had a very good idea. "I didn't know if there were any," she said. "Where are they? I haven't seen a portrait since I got here? All the artwork here are landscapes."

"Yeah," Malfoy said, wrapping the cotton robe around him more tightly. "I got rid of them. Or, rather, I moved them to the attic. They wouldn't shut the hell up," he added as an afterthought.

"Oh," Hermione said, knowing exactly what he meant. She bet that the Malfoy elders were _not_ pleased that Draco consorted with Mudbloods and blood traitors, turning his back on his father to fight Voldemort. "Well, I definitely think we should consult the portraits, even if they will be...unpleasant."

"Don't worry, they hate me as much as you now," Malfoy said with an ironic smile.

"I guess you don't need my help reading the journals now," Hermione said, shifting uncomfortably as she watched him watch her. "Tomorrow morning, let's go to the attic."

"What if I'm a snake?" he asked. Hermione shrugged.

"We have to talk to them anyway. If this is common in the family line, they will know it's you. Perhaps you can write some questions or thoughts down, tonight, and I can ask them when we bring them down," she suggested. What more could they do? Not knowing when and how he changed back to human form was a real pain in the ass, really.

"Alright," Malfoy said, standing up with as much dignity as possible while wearing only a white cotton bathrobe. "Well, I guess I'll go to bed then. Listen, Granger, I..."

"It's fine, Draco," Hermione said, pasting on a smile and using his first name. Anything to throw him off and get him out of there. It was too late, and she was too tired and confused to talk about the kiss. Better just forget all about it.

"Alright, good night," he sighed, leaving the room finally.

Hermione let out a deep breath when he was gone. _How the fuck did that happen_? This was Draco Malfoy. She hadn't given him two seconds of thought for nearly five years. Now, she was dreaming about him, kissing him, and feeling strange fluttery feelings where he was concerned. Was it just proximity? Was this just a strange reaction to spending too much time together? Or had her opinions, where he was concerned, changed?

She had to sleep if she was going to tackle this problem with renewed force tomorrow - not to mention put up with the Malfoy ancestors in portrait form. She had to get Malfoy out of her life before she did something crazy...like sleep with him.

Draco was still confused and frustrated when he got back to his room. He turned the heat down and settled in bed with the oldest journal. He tried to read it, but he couldn't focus. This thing with Granger was becoming a problem. He wanted her. He'd admit it after tonight. He wanted to bury himself insider he and feel her surrounding him. He wanted her moaning his name and kissing him. Oh Merlin, he wanted her kissing him. But she didn't seem to want to even acknowledge what had happened between them.

He could still feel her curves against him, the apex of her thighs against his cock, and the feel of her lips on his. It was amazing. The best kiss he could remember to date, in fact. So, what was the problem? She wasn't a virgin. That, he could tell. Was it the snake thing? He had trouble believing she was that shallow. Was it his past? She didn't seem to mind helping him. And she _had_ returned the kiss.

_Why the hell am I sulking about this_, he moaned to himself. It was no big deal. There were a million sexy fish in the sea. Who cared if Granger felt the need to play hard to get? When he figured out how to fix this problem, he'd find the nearest one and fuck her hard and repeatedly until Granger's image turned to mush in his head.

With renewed alertness and vigor, he opened the journal and started to read. He fell asleep, book in hand, almost an hour later.


	9. The Most Pretentious House of Malfoy

**The Most Pretentious House of Malfoy**

It was a wonder Hermione slept at all with the swirling thoughts in her head, but after a few moments of _'what the actual fuck'_, she managed to calm down and sleep. She knew, regardless of the bizarre sequence of events that had led to her tongue fuck Draco Malfoy, she needed to preserve her energy. Now, more than ever, she wanted to solve this problem with Malfoy and get the fuck out of Dodge. There was no telling what incredibly stupid thing she'd do next.

She woke with a pounding headache, probably the effects of whatever war her subconscious mind had been waging while she'd been blissfully asleep.

She hated to do it, but she'd get no work done if she felt like this, so she summoned Martin and drank down the headache tonic he gave her immediately. "Thank you, Martin," she said with a smile.

"Of course, Miss," he replied, leaving her breakfast on the table near the fireplace. She really should see if Malfoy was still Malfoy before she did anything. Wrapping her robe from home around her, she padded out of the room and down the hall.

She didn't know which she wanted more; for him to be a snake or human. In snake form, she could get some distance. Last night had been intense, insane, and too confusing. If he was a snake, she could avoid it, for the moment. On the other hand, if he was human, this entire portrait excavation would be about a hundred times easier. The quicker they got done, the quicker she could get out of there and take a long vacation - miles and miles away from England.

Sighing, she knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open. It was cracked, probably for her, in case he was no longer human. Walking inside, she found him, still human, sleeping like a baby with a thick journal resting across his chest. He looked adorable, actually. There was a little drool collecting on his pillow where his open mouth was dripping onto the expensive cotton.

She nearly burst into laughter, but managed to hold it in - just barely. Draco Malfoy, the epitome of 'high class' was drooling all over himself. But, still, it was cute. It was obvious he fell asleep reading the journals he'd discovered the night before, and she took comfort in the fact that, if she had to work with anyone on something like this, at least it was him. He might have been an ass his whole life, but Malfoy wasn't an idiot. She hated to think of the all-consuming headache this would have brought her if she had to work with Ron like this.

It struck her, at that moment, that for the past three days, she hadn't thought of Ron once. While she was happy with her decision to leave him, he'd been on her mind constantly since he called her a 'cold, prude who didn't know how to do anything but make a man's genitals soften on sight' (among other things). So, maybe this Malfoy thing was helping her a little. If it could stop her from feeling the icy pang of hurt when she remembered her former best friend and lover, she was grateful.

She shook her head, realizing she'd been standing there staring at Malfoy for at least ten minutes. Moving forward, she swallowed when she noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. It should really be a crime walking about looking like that. It wasn't fair.

"Malfoy," she called, shaking his shoulder lightly. Apparently, it was enough, not only to wake him, but to send him into a panic, because within seconds she was pinned beneath him, his wand aimed at her throat.

His instincts and reflexes had been honed from his days as a Death Eater. After he'd decided to change sides, Snape taught him the importance of being on his guard. Without it, Draco would have been dead a long time ago.

So, when Granger came in to wake him, he really couldn't be blamed for thinking she was a fellow Death Eater ready to kill him. Those people did still exist. He wasn't used to having anyone in his room. The girls he took home were almost always gone by morning. On the rare occasion they were still there, he'd been expecting them.

"M-Malfoy," she breathed, her eyes wide as she stared up at him. It took him a moment to get his bearings. She looked frightened underneath him, but she felt so good, and after the frustration of last night, it took every ounce of his will to move off of her, placing his wand next to his pillow.

"Sorry," he said, letting her slip out from underneath him. _Damn she feels good_, he thought to himself as he rolled back on his back, placing the journal he'd been reading on the bedside table. He propped himself on his elbows, knowing the effect his nonchalant pose usually had on women.

Seemed it was affecting Granger too. _Looks like she is just a woman, after all, _he smirked to himself. "Problem?" he asked as she avoided his gaze. He was still feeling frustrated about the night before and planned to make life hard for her as long as she held out on him.

"Do you have any clothes on?" she asked, her eyes opening wide as she realized what she'd asked him. _Oh, innocent little Granger. The things I could do to you_.

His smirk deepened. "I never sleep in clothes. Why? Does it bother you?" he asked, his eyebrow quirking in question.

She sighed in frustration, and he almost laughed. "If you are finished accosting me," she said, straightening the flimsy robe around herself, the very picture of self-righteousness, "I thought we might try and get the portraits down. I am, after all, only here to help _you_," she pointed out.

Well, there she had a point. It wasn't fair of him to be mean to her when she was sacrificing her own time to help him. "First breakfast," he said, indicating the food that had been left out just like in her room.

"Fine," she sighed. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes.

"Eat with me," Draco said, looking her up and down. Her almost timidness after last night was an even bigger turn on, and he couldn't help himself. He wanted to be around her.

"But my food..." she started, but he simply snapped his fingers, calling Martin into his room.

"Please bring Miss Granger's food in to dine with me," he said, and Martin popped out with a quick nod. _Now, try getting out of here_, he thought with a smirk.

"I will be allowed to return to my room to change my clothes, won't I?" she asked sarcastically, finally giving in and sitting in the chair at the table.

"Maybe," he said with a wink, as he got out of bed in all his naked glory and sauntered across the room to his own closet. _Let's see how long it takes you to crack, my dear_. Hey, he was a Malfoy. He didn't give up without at least a little fight.

He was trying to kill her, of that she was sure. _I will not look. I will not look. I will not look. _She said it over and over like a mantra after she got over the shock of his naked body, semi-hard cock and all, standing before her without a care in the world. Merlin, he was beautiful. _No, Damnit! Hermione, he's a stupid, evil git. He is just toying with you! Eyes on the prize._

So, she turned to her breakfast which had appeared before her seconds after Martin left, and nibbled on a piece of toast, willing herself not to give Malfoy the satisfaction of drooling over him. _Bloody, self-obsessed git._

"What?" Draco said as he plopped down in the seat in front of her, finally fully dressed. "The nakedness too much for your Gryffindor sensibilities?"

Oh, she wanted to slap him. "No," she replied evenly as she forked another spoonful of eggs into her mouth. She finished chewing and swallowing before continuing. "I've just seen better."

She smirked when she saw the affronted look on Malfoy's face. He deserved it. He was far too sure of himself. The fact that she was lying through her teeth was beside the point.

"That's not how it seemed last night," he countered once he regained his composure.

"And I told you, we are not talking about last night," Hermione said, her voice like steel. "So, let it go, or I'll walk out the door. You can find out the cure for your family problem without my help."

She watched with satisfaction when he deflated a bit and turned back to his eggs. He almost looked like a little boy who'd had his toy taken away, and she wanted to giggle, but kept it to herself. "Now," she continued, setting her food aside. "Did you make a list of questions?"

Malfoy nodded and pulled a slip of parchment out of the book he'd fallen asleep reading. It was short and concise. "It's hard to know what to write. I need to know what they know or what they are willing to share before I can tell what questions I need answered," he explained.

She nodded in understanding. "I figure we should do that, first thing, while you are still human. Who knows how long it will last," Hermione reasoned. Now that she was back on the topic of Draco's transformation, she could relax and focus on the research. It was much safer territory than whatever the fuck had happened in her bed a few hours ago.

"I'll call Martin. He knows where all the portraits are. I had him put them up there. They were ever so loud," Malfoy said with a cheeky grin.

Hermione smirked at that. "Okay. If I'm allowed to leave, I'll go change now."

"Fine," Malfoy sighed dramatically. Hermione laughed at that. She couldn't believe how free he seemed over the last few days. She never knew him to be anything but uptight, self-obsessed, and rigid. Now, he was like a real person to her. A person she enjoyed spending time with. The revelation was shocking and confusing. Instead of focusing on it, she decided just to accept it and move on. If she and Malfoy could form a friendship after this, so much the better.

* * *

><p>Hermione and Draco were both nervous, standing outside the parlor on the first floor. "You know, I've been human for almost nine hours. Maybe it's over," Draco said, hopefully. "Maybe it was temporary."<p>

Granger looked at him skeptically. "I doubt it. Your father seemed pretty certain the 'cure' would be something difficult for you in particular."

"I know, but really, I would rather play seeker on a spiked broom than go in there," Draco said with a dramatic sigh. The last time he'd been in front of one of the Malfoy Family Portraits was the day he took over the Manor five years ago. It hadn't been pleasant. They were crotchety, old, and the epitome of racist prigs.

Granger sputtered out an unladylike laugh, and he was more thrown by the fact that he thought her ungraceful guffaws endearing. _Merlin, I need to get laid. _"Well, let's just bite the bullet. What's the worst they can do? They are portraits, right?"

"Sure, say that now," he muttered, but opened the door, allowing her to enter first.

"Mudblood Filth!" hissed a female portrait.

"Abomination! Vile! Ungrateful brat! Soiling this home!" The cacophony of voices rose from every part of the room. At least twenty portraits were assembled by Martin, and none of them seemed happy about Granger being in the house, let alone the presence of the two before them.

Draco was embarrassed, if he was being totally honest. These were his family. He was their legacy. He came from a long line of arseholes who'd rather kill someone for being different than even bear being in the company of a 'Mudblood'. He wished he could take back all the times he'd called Granger that. It sounded so ignorant now.

"Get her out! Get her out of my sight! Disgusting slut!" a particularly angry Malfoy wife shouted, and Draco had enough.

"Enough!" he cried, his anger rising to the surface.

"It's okay," Granger said, looking at her feet. "It's not a big deal. Let's just get this over with."

Draco looked at her like she had ten heads. _Not a big deal?_ They were totally disrespecting her. "It is a big deal," he insisted, turning back to the portraits who were still shouting insults.

"Don't talk to her like that!" he yelled. "She's a guest in this house."

"Blood traitor! Not fit to call yourself a Malfoy!" Abraxas Malfoy, his father's father boomed from the middle of the room.

"Like I want to be associated with you lot!" Draco spat back.

"Draco!" Hermione shouted. "You are just making this worse."

He had to concede that point. "Look, all I want is help getting back to normal from this ridiculous _Animorphi_ nonsense. Any clues?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Yeah, like that attitude is really going to win them over._

"Impertinent little twit," Abraxas boomed. "My son should have taught you a lesson when you were young!"

"You mean the little torture sessions!" Malfoy spat. "Yeah, I guess they didn't work."

Hermione looked at her blonde companion - the man she'd come to know over the last few days, the man she'd lusted after only hours ago - there was so much she didn't know about him.

"I'll tell you nothing," Abraxas said stubbornly. "But know this. _She_ will never be a part of this family. Don't even consider it. You've done enough to our name."

_Huh? _She could see a wrath working up in Draco's face and knew this was not going to work. At least not now. "Draco, let's just..."

"No!" Malfoy fumed. "Who the hell do you think you are? You old, saggy, arrogant..."

"Malfoy!" Hermione shouted, pulling on his arm. The portraits had commenced to screech and shout loud enough to make Mrs. Black sound like a purring kitty cat. "Let's just go. Regroup. This isn't working. You are just riling them up."

She could tell he didn't like the idea, but had to concede her point. The room was giving her a headache, and she could only imagine it was doing the same to him.

"Get out of here you Mudblood scum. Don't you even try to worm your way into this family!" the evil Malfoy wife screamed as she pulled Malfoy by the arm and out of the parlor door, slamming it shut and silenced.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned against the wall. It had been a long time since she'd encountered such racism. Sure, it still existed, no matter what anyone said. But people didn't say it to your face these days. The way they talked to her brought her back to the war days...especially her time in that very house. She shuddered at the memory of Bellatrix Lestrange hovering over her with her favorite knife.

"Look, Hermione," Malfoy said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She was shocked to hear him use her first name. He pointedly refused until that moment.

"I'm sorry about them. I don't think like that. I mean...I don't care about your parents or anything," he said awkwardly.

She couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips. She guessed it didn't matter how much class, money, or gentility one had, men were terrible at apologizing. The fact that he felt the need to was enough to make her want to hug him. She reigned in the impulse though.

"It's not your fault," she said. "It just brought back memories. I'm fine. Really."

He seemed relieved and worked on relaxing after the taxing experience in the parlor. "Let's just go to the library. The journals might be our only hope," he suggested.

"Okay." Hermione smiled and followed him down the hall.

* * *

><p>They'd been pouring over the books for nearly two hours when Martin arrived with their lunch and the post. Draco was still human and neither of them could figure out why, but were counting their blessings. He could change at any time, and things would get harder all over again.<p>

"Thank you, Martin," Granger said, as she pushed the journal she was reading aside. She'd taken his great-great-great-great grandfather Aluicious' journal, while he was reading old Al's father's journal. Mostly, it was mind numbing. They didn't want to miss anything, so they were skimming every page, but nothing more exciting than a family squabble about where to put Malfoy Manor came up.

Why would the books appear to him if they were totally useless? He just had to keep moving forward. But for now, food was in order. The food he ate as a snake was never really satisfying, and he felt the need to stock up on energy in these moments of 'humaness'.

Flipping through the post, he noticed that all of it was for Granger. That wasn't so surprising. He rarely got mail unless it was from Blaise or Gringotts. "Here," he said, pushing it toward her as he picked up his sandwich to eat. "You seem very popular today."

"Who the hell is owling me?" Hermione muttered to herself as she picked up six envelopes. A quick look was enough to tell her five of them were from Harry. "Dear Merlin," she sighed to herself opening the first one.

'_Hermione,_

_I hope you are okay. Please call me. I don't trust Malfoy. I know he was on our side during the war, and I trust you, but...well, you know how he is. Please, just let me know you are okay._

_Harry'_

The next one was a bit longer.

'_Hermione,_

_Are you still at the Manor? I've half a mind to come over there. I know it's late, but I need to know you are okay. I'm at the Auror office all day tomorrow. Come see me. I just want to know what's going on with you. Did you figure out what was wrong with Malfoy? Please, just call me._

_Harry'_

Hermione sighed. She should have at least told him what was going on. She'd been at Malfoy Manor for over 24 hours. It hadn't seemed that long. She was comfortable there. But she'd forgotten how she'd left things with Harry, and he was probably geared up to send out a search party.

His next three letters were more panicked versions of the same. After filing them away, she pulled out the last letter. It was from Ginny.

'_Hermione,_

_Please call Harry. He's woken the baby three times this morning, Flooing back here to see if you've called. You know how he is. Always has the need to be the savior. He is imagining all the different ways Malfoy is torturing you in the dungeons, you know. So, please, for my sanity, let him know you are okay._

_Now, on to important matters. What in Merlin's name is going on? Harry only told me that you were working with Malfoy trying to cure a STD. What is that? And why are you hanging out with him in the first place?_

_I expect a full report tomorrow night when you come to dinner. It's a very small affair. No worries. We will have plenty of time to catch up, and you can tell me what the hell is going on._

_See you tomorrow,_

_Ginny.'_

Hermione smiled to herself. Some things never changed. Ginny Weasley fishing for information. "I've got to write Harry before he has a heart attack," Hermione said to Malfoy who was finishing off his treacle tart.

Malfoy snorted and rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't want the boy wonder to think his precious little Granger was in harm's way," he muttered sarcastically.

Hermione just sighed in amused frustration. Those two were like children with each other. It didn't matter how much time passed, or whether Harry saved the world, or that Draco's assistance in the war was invaluable; they hated each other. It was almost cute the way they clung to their outdated and useless grudge.

Instead of pointing out how childish he was being, she penned Harry a letter assuring him that she had come to no harm. She was just busy, and promised to update him at dinner with Ginny the next night.

Not long after finishing up the letter and sending it off with Martin, Malfoy let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm changing again," he said, almost resigned to his fate.

"I'll set up the charm to help you read," Hermione said, sympathetically, as Malfoy stared up at her with his snake eyes. She really felt sorry for him. This had to suck worse than History of Magic classes with Professor Binns. At least there was an end in sight with those.

Draco just nodded in resignation. He was starting to get used to it now. He was more freaked out by _that_ than the actual changing. If this was becoming the 'norm' something was seriously wrong.

He really needed to find the cure for this. The back and forth was messing with his mind. He was just pleased to note that Granger had mastered the page turning charm. At least he didn't have to be useless in his snake form.

* * *

><p>"Merlin's wet, soggy underpants!" Hermione shouted, finally growing tired of the journals. She'd been skimming for hours. Dinner had come and gone. It was dark outside, and all she and Malfoy had done was read these vile things. Not a Merlin-be-damned thing about <em>Animorphi. <em>How could someone go through a change like this and not even bother writing about it?

They had no problems writing about every last detail of how a Malfoy dressed, or spoke, or courted proper Pureblood women. But, change into a snake? Not even a fucking footnote!

Malfoy looked up at her sympathetically, but couldn't say anything. "Sorry," she said, knowing it wasn't his fault that his ancestors were all total bastards. She'd just gotten to the point where Rudolphus Malfoy, Abraxas' father explained proper Malfoy breeding, which included lessons in etiquette along with a random hex or two to keep one in line, that she lost her last shreds of patience.

Not only were these people vile to 'Mudbloods', they were vile to each other. Child abuse was as common as proper 'high tea' and she couldn't help but feel a stab of anger at the thought that Draco had been on the receiving end of a 'proper Malfoy upbringing'. The women who married in were mindless automatons who did what they were told. It was like watching the world spin backwards.

"I just need a break," Granger said, running her hands through her hair.

She probably didn't know it, but she had a tendency to do that when she was focused on something. It never failed to make her hair a frizzy ball, but Draco found that it was cute. He'd always assumed that because her hair was 'different' it was bad. One did not like what was 'different'. One liked what he was told to like. Oh, how things had changed over the last few days. He wasn't sure he'd be able to go back to his old mindset.

Watching her grow frustrated with his relatives made him embarrassed. He understood the feeling. The things they wrote in these books were vile. His stomach nearly turned when he read an account of a rape (they'd called it a lesson) by one of his great-greats. He'd seen horrible things as a Death Eater. He'd been made to do horrible things. But he'd always assumed that was Voldemort's perversion. He'd never considered that his family really was just that evil.

More than that, though, Draco knew what she was reading from his more recent relatives. She was a bright girl. She could put two and two together and get four. She was seeing an intimate look at life as a Malfoy, and she'd know what that meant for him. She'd know that he was on the receiving end of many of these 'lessons'. He'd never let anyone know these things about him. Not even Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, or Pansy. These were the secrets he thought he'd take to his grave. And here was a girl he was growing closer and closer to, reading all about it.

"How in Merlin's name am I supposed to find anything in this place!" A masculine voice pulled him out of his inner thoughts. He looked for his wand, even though he knew he had no hands to use it. Someone was in his house. Someone he didn't know was in his house and he felt cold dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Master," Martin said, breathlessly as he popped into the library. "Mister Potter is here for Miss Granger."

_I knew allowing him through the wards was a bad idea_, Draco thought to himself. He just nodded at the elf, telling him it was okay. There was no use putting it off. The boy-who-lived-to-be-a-royal-pain-in-the-ass would probably have the Aurors after him if he didn't find Granger soon.

"Sorry about this, Malfoy." Hermione said, biting her lip as she looked at him. "I told him I was fine, but Harry..."

She was cut off by Potter gliding into the room like he owned the place. "Hermione!" he called like he hadn't seen her in years. _What the hell did he think, I've kidnapped her? The sodding git._

"Harry, I told you I'd be over tomorrow night. What are you doing here?" Hermione was irritated at her friend. He was acting like a crazy person about Malfoy. Sure, they weren't friends, but they both knew he wasn't dangerous. Besides, he couldn't wield a wand, so what was he going to do? Stare her to death?

"Well, I thought..." Harry started but Hermione cut him off.

"I know very well what you thought, Harry," she said in her best schoolmarm voice. "You thought Draco had me locked up in the dungeons, torturing me. You thought, 'hey, we're all still fifteen, so let's act like it.' You thought I couldn't take care of this myself."

"Hermione, no. I just..." Harry started, but she interrupted him again.

"You just what?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding nearly as irritated as she was. "You have some grudge against Malfoy, fine. But we are adults now, Harry. You, of all people, should understand that people should be given a second chance."

Draco was thoroughly irritated by Potter's presence in his house and thoroughly turned on by the dressing down he was receiving at the hands of the fierce little vixen in front of him. _She's so fucking hot._

He had to admit, it made him feel good to know she'd truly come to change her perspective about him. He didn't _need_ friends. He'd lived long enough without them, but it didn't mean he didn't want any. Hermione obviously cared about him enough to stand up to her best friend. That was saying something.

They'd gotten off into a little squabble, but he was too enchanted with watching Granger to care what they were talking about now. She was a goddess when she argued. There was no discussion necessary. And he didn't feel the least bit guilty for thinking so. Her flushed skin and hands on her hips made him want to banish Potter to the bowels of the Manor and take her right on the tabletop. Of course, he need arms, legs, and most importantly his cock to do so.

No matter. He'd have her one day. He knew it. She wanted him. He felt it in her kiss. She was being stubborn, and possibly smart, but she'd be his. One trait he planned to continue as a Malfoy - Malfoys always got what they wanted.

"Harry, please. Can you just chill out?" Hermione finally said.

"I just worry about you," he whispered, turning his back from Malfoy's prying eyes.

"I know," Hermione said, smiling at her friend. "But remember, I'm just as strong as you, and I'm quicker with my wand. Now, go back home and be with your wife," she said in a no-nonsense tone.

"You're right," Harry conceded, a grin on his face. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I've told you, I'll be there. Jeez. Do you think I've lost all my sense and memory?" Hermione asked with a mock-aggravated tone.

"Okay, okay!" Harry said, raising his hands in defeat. "I'll see you."

"Aren't you forgetting to say goodbye to Draco? It is his house you've barged into after all," Hermione said a smirk on her face. Two birds with one stone. She'd embarrass Harry for thinking she couldn't handle herself, and make the whole thing up to Malfoy. He'd like nothing better than to see Harry apologize, in his own way.

"Umm, well, sorry for interrupting. Goodnight, Malfoy," Harry said, stiff and formal. Hermione just grinned and rolled her eyes as she led her best friend out of the library.

"I love you, Harry," she said.

"Love you too, Hermione. Just, call me once in a while. I worry," he finally said.

"Yes, father," Hermione said sarcastically.

"You know, I think you are spending far too much time with Malfoy," Harry finally said. "First you call him, 'Draco' and now you are becoming a sarcastic, snarky woman."

Hermione laughed at that. She'd noticed she'd picked up some of Malfoy's habits as well, but felt all the better for it. "Goodbye, Harry. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out." They both laughed and Harry left the way he came.

When she turned around, she was staring at a human Draco pulling his pants over his slim hips. "Well, what was that? About eight hours as a snake? We're making progress." The fact that she was so unfazed by his changes struck her as strange, but she just shrugged. She was used to it now.

"Yeah. Now, if we could just extend my human hours to 24, we'd be all set." It struck Draco as interesting that they'd come to talk about his problem as _their_ problem. He knew she took it seriously, but that she cared that much made him feel better.

"Okay, back to the journals?' Granger asked, obviously dreading the notion.

"No," Draco said. "I've got another idea."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, there is one portrait we didn't talk to. Mostly because I really didn't want to. But, I think it might be time to bite the bullet," Draco said.

"Your father?" Granger asked, following his line of reasoning. _Smart woman_.

"It couldn't hurt." Draco said with a resigned sigh. The truth was, he knew that his father would probably tell him what he needed to know. He was willing to write it to him in a letter. As mad as he might have been at Draco, Lucius obviously wanted to make amends. Besides, something Abraxas said has struck him as odd, and he wanted to ask Lucius about it. _What did Granger have to do with all of this, and why was Abraxas worried he was going to marry her?_

"Let's do it. I haven't had the pleasure of your father's company in a while," Hermione said. Oh yeah, Malfoy's sarcasm was definitely rubbing off.


	10. Malfoy Problem Solving

**Malfoy Problem Solving**

Hermione was shaking by the time they reached Lucius' study. For one, it was in the wing of the house that brought back memories of writhing on the floor underneath Bellatrix Lestrange. Secondly, her relationship with Lucius Malfoy was not a pleasant one. In the few times she'd been in contact with him, his piercing grey eyes and acidic tongue were always trained on her. He hated her. He'd made no secret of it.

"I can go in myself," Malfoy offered, stopping where they were standing, about twenty feet from the door.

"No, I'm okay," she lied, taking in a deep breath. Looking up at Malfoy, he didn't look so good either.

She felt him step close to her, and slip his hand into hers. "Granger, he's dead. He can't do anything but yell at us."

"I know," Hermione said, sighing to let out all the tension in her body. She took comfort in the feel of his warm hand in hers and let it relax her. "Besides, he's not my father," she finally said, looking up at him with concern. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Fine," Draco assured her. "The worst of his punishments will be quite impossible from his place inside a picture frame," he smiled at that thought.

"Has he...I mean, did Lucius really hurt you?" she asked, her warm eyes looking over Malfoy as he tried to pull away, ashamed of the little boy who'd cowered in his father's presence. She held tight, though, keeping his hand in hers.

"Let's just say, whatever you've read in the journals was commonplace in my childhood home as well," he said, not making eye contact with her. It was not something he wanted to relive or talk about. He didn't want Granger's pity, and he didn't want to relive the horrors of being his father's son. It seemed, however, that he had no choice. She was stubborn, and his father was the only key to his problem.

_Well, better get this over with_, he thought tugging on Granger's hand. She looked so stricken by his confession that he almost felt sorry for how he revealed it. "Come on," he said, his voice softening. "He's dead."

He breathed a sigh of relief when she seemed to come around, her eyes looking into his intensely. Instead of heading to the door, though, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. It was so short, he barely believed it happened, but the tingling he felt on his lips was still present. The shock of her actions was enough to give him confidence, and he squeezed her hand before heading toward the study door.

Hermione didn't know what possessed her to kiss him, but in the moment, it felt completely right. She didn't want to pity him, but how could she not. He was just a boy when his father started the strict punishments and indoctrination. The fact that he joined the Order at all was a miracle. She couldn't believe how insensitive she'd been when he crossed over. She never gave him a chance. Knowing what she knew now, maybe they could have been real friends.

Instead, this was what they had. This...strange transformation and a kismet of events that brought them together. If she did anything with her life, it would be showing Draco friendship and kindness. The kiss was instinctual, but it felt right, and she couldn't bring herself to regret it. At least not at the moment.

With one last deep breath, she followed Draco into the dragon's den, and let the door to the study click shut behind her. _You are Hermione Granger. You faced Voldemort. You can handle Lucius Malfoy's fucking face in a picture._

"Well, I wondered how long it would take you to come to me," Lucius said from his place above the fireplace, across from his desk. Hermione found it somewhat comical that he had his portrait set so he could look at himself anytime he wanted as he worked. _Vain git._

"Forgive me if I didn't really want to see your face ever again," Draco replied flippantly. "I'd planned to never come into this room until this Malfoy curse ruined my life."

"It's not a curse, Draco," Lucius said in a tense voice. "It was meant to protect the family."

"Oh, this should be good. How, pray tell, is turning into a snake at a moment's notice, any protection?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes like a rebellious teenager.

Hermione stood back and let the father and son interact.

"You are human now, which means you must be onto something," Lucius said, his glance turning to Hermione, a sneer on his lips.

"I don't have a bleeding clue why I'm turning human," Draco said, growing frustrated. Why did everyone talk in riddles? Couldn't people just be straight with him for once? "It's not as if the Forefathers were forthcoming. Then again, I am only a traitor, right _dad_?"

"If you are going to act like a child, I'm going to treat you like one," Lucius said, his tone cold and his eyes colder.

"Excuse me," Hermione finally said from her place against the desk, "but I think Draco has every reason to be upset. You never prepared him for this. He had no idea this was going to happen, and he doesn't know how to fix it."

If looks could kill, Granger would have been a grease spot on the floor. Lucius' sneer was vicious as he turned back to his son. "I'll say nothing in front of the Mudblood. She has no right in my house."

"It's _my_ house, father," Draco said. "And call her a Mudblood again, and I'll get out the paint thinner." Lucius' eyes went wide and Draco took extreme satisfaction in pushing his father off kilter.

"I'll go," Granger said. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

"You don't have to," Draco assured her. No way was he giving into his father's stupid prejudices. He could go fly a kite.

"No, it's okay. If he wants to talk to you alone, I have no problem with it," Granger assured a small smile on her lips. It was that small smile that warmed him enough to nod his head and let her go as he dealt with the demon of his father all on his own. She was right anyway. He knew enough to know that if his father wanted to be a stubborn prick, he could be.

"Okay," he finally said, kissing her cheek as she walked out the door. It was partially to piss his father off and partially because he wanted to draw any strength he could from her before he went to battle.

"I have half a mind to keep my mouth shut until you get her out of here," Lucius sneered.

"Haven't you learned anything from your time in Azkaban? Blood status means nothing. All that your zealotry got you was locked up, leaving a wife and son who hated you," Draco pointed out as he leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"She's not going to get into this family. I don't care what you think you see in that girl. You'll have to find someone else," Lucius said, his tone almost panicked.

"What are you talking about? Look, just start at the beginning. What does Granger have to do with all of this?" Draco asked, his frustration reaching a fever pitch. That was twice that his family warned him off of marrying Granger. He wanted her, might even admit to wanting to date her, but he was far from wanting to marry _anyone_.

Lucius said nothing.

"You wrote to me, on your deathbed. I have to believe, that no matter how bad a father you've been, you chose to warn me for a reason. Now, why are you clamming up just because Granger's here?" He took a deep breath, trying to get his emotions under control. If he knew one thing about dealing with his father, getting hysterical didn't work.

"She was there when I changed. She's helped me," he explained. "Can't you put your prejudices aside so that I can figure this thing out and move on with my life?"

"It's not that simple, Draco," Lucius finally said, beginning to give in. "Do you have feelings for that girl?"

Draco scoffed. The old coot couldn't even use her name. He ignored the irony that he refused to use her given name too. "What difference does it make?" he said defiantly.

"It makes all the difference if it's too late," Lucius answered seriously.

"What are you _talking _about?" Draco shouted, reaching the end of his tether.

"You can't possibly be this dim, Draco," Lucius scoffed. "When are you changing back into yourself? When _she's_ around?" _Well, yes?_ He had considered that, but she was _always_ around.

"Yes, but..." he started, but his father cut him off again.

"And, let me guess, you've seen her in a new light. You even find her...attractive," he sneered the last part like the thought was so vile he could barely get it out of his mouth.

_Ummmmm..._"So, what's it to you?" Draco asked with a shrug. He didn't have to answer to his father anymore. He was a grown man, and he could fuck whoever he wanted.

"This isn't how it was supposed to happen," Lucius said, warily. "Your mother and I pushed you toward all the best Pureblood witches from such a young age." Draco knew that well enough. He shuddered at the memory of forced dates with the likes of Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and even her younger sister Astoria.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Draco asked, trying to be patient with his annoying father.

"The damn curse, Draco!" Lucius finally shouted.

"I thought it wasn't a curse," Draco countered.

"Insolent little...the whole point of the _Animorphi_ spell was to ensure the Malfoy line continued on," Lucius finally said.

_Now we are getting somewhere,_ Draco thought. _Took him long enough._

* * *

><p>Hermione paced the floor outside Lucius' study, lost in her thoughts. She hoped Malfoy found out whatever was going on. She needed to get out of that house. What was a bizarre attraction was now turning into something more. She could feel it. The way he touched her, and kissed her like it was so natural. It made her feel things she'd never felt. Not even with Ron. Especially not with Ron.<p>

Even if he liked her, and it seemed that he did, he was not what she needed. She wanted something that _meant_ something. She wanted to make love to someone, not fuck them. Well, maybe she wanted to fuck someone, but it could only be if he wanted to make love to her as well. Draco was not on the market for that.

Therefore, it was best she got some distance as soon as possible. She'd made a commitment to help him, and she would, but dinner at Harry's would definitely be a welcome distraction from the aching need she felt for the man in the study. How had it gotten so out of control so quickly? She was on track to make a fool of herself and get her heart broken in the process. Until they could find out how to fix this problem, she'd just have to try and reign in her emotions.

* * *

><p>Draco got comfortable on the edge of the desk and prepared himself for his father's explanation. "What do you mean, 'to ensure the Malfoy line continued on'?"<p>

"This hasn't always been an issue for Malfoy men," Lucius began; it was probably how he'd always intended to tell his son the truth, at home, on his deathbed. "About three hundred years ago, our forefather, Cepheus Malfoy, committed a crime against the family."

"What kind of crime?" Draco asked. He remembered seeing Cepheus' journal among the bunch, but as he wasn't a key player in his family history (as far as Draco knew), he skipped it.

Lucius curled his lip in disgust. "He was a disgusting pervert," he said. Draco needed a bit more explanation than that. "Instead of meeting nice Pureblood witches, he was caught in the Slytherin dorms with another boy. And they were not studying."

_Oh. Well, okay then._

"So, he was gay. What's the big deal?" Draco asked, but he should have known better. Lucius Malfoy was _not_ a new age man. If Muggle borns were bad, gays were worse in his eyes. There was no changing the man's willful ignorance. Besides, he was dead. Who cared what he thought anymore? Still, it was hard to believe that there had only been one gay man to come through the ranks of the Malfoy family.

"He wanted to run off with that boy," Lucius said like it was obvious what the problem was. "He was the only son of the Malfoy Head of House, and about to run off to be with some fairy. Well, his father wouldn't stand for it. He enlisted the help of the leading Potions Master in England and created a special spell, only to be broken by love."

"Wait, back up," Draco said, trying to process what he was being told. "Cepheus Malfoy was gay, and his father turned him into a snake until he fell in love with a woman."

"Essentially, yes. However, he configured the spell so that all future Malfoy men would suffer the same condition at such a time that they take over the Malfoy name. It would ensure that the line always continues. This has not been an issue since the spell's inception because, as you know, Malfoys marry young," Lucius explained.

"I wouldn't call what you and mother had, love," Draco scoffed.

"You know nothing about it!" Lucius snapped. "I loved her. In my own way, I loved her, just as my father loved my mother. When I changed, I already knew it would happen, and Narcissa and I performed the ritual to change back permanently."

"But this doesn't make sense," Draco said, working through everything he was told. "Regardless of the spell, Cepheus was still gay. How did he end up falling in love with a woman?"

"Draco, something you will never understand, it seems, is the complexities of human emotions." Lucius said, sighing in resignation.

_Well, if that's true it was no help from you_, Draco muttered to himself.

"Cepheus fought it at first. Nevertheless, there was a friend. She'd been a good friend to him for a very long time and she loved him. Her commitment to him endeared her to him. I don't know the extent to which he loved her, but her sacrifice worked and he was human again."

"What's the ritual? What sacrifice are you talking about?" he asked.

"It's a potion. The one you love must give her blood and commit herself to you, promising to bear your children to continue the Malfoy line," Lucius said looking seriously at Draco through the portrait on the wall.

_Well, shit._

The absolute last thing Draco had in mind was marriage and children. That's what this curse basically amounted to. He'd have to fall in love and find a woman willing to commit herself to him for life. He wouldn't have children with anyone less committed. How the hell could he do that when he didn't even think he could love himself, let alone someone else?

He wasn't ready for this. Damn his father for being stupid enough to get locked up in prison and dead by the age of 45. The only woman whose company he could even stand was Granger's. _Oh buggering fuck. _

"That's why the whole Malfoy line is up in arms about Hermione being here," Draco surmised.

"Well, you can understand the implication," Lucius said. "I wouldn't get too attached. I'm not sure her pathetic blood would even break the curse."

Draco found himself nose to nose with this father's portrait in a second. "She's one-hundred times the human being you ever were, father. Shut up about her blood."

"Oh, she has gotten under the Malfoy skin," Lucius sneered. "Tell me, Draco, is fucking a Mudblood really worth the humiliation?"

"Shut up, Father!" Draco demanded, his blood boiling. "Shut your mouth about her, or I'll make that paint thinner a promise. You are lucky you aren't in the attic with the rest of you pathetic lot!"

"Find someone else, Draco." Lucius said, ignoring the threats.

"What makes you think I even have feelings for her anyway? She's just helping me out," Draco said, turning to leave the room. He got what he needed for the moment.

"You are a terrible liar, Draco. Always have been." With those parting words, Draco walked out the door, slamming it behind him. The trouble was, his father was absolutely right. He did have feelings for Hermione. Moreover, he couldn't picture falling for anyone else.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long after Draco returned from the study that he was a snake again. Before he transformed, he hadn't revealed the results of the discussion with his father, but Hermione was sure he'd had a revelation. When she asked him what his father said, he just gave her a wary smile and told her he'd tell her everything, but he needed time to think. She gave it to him.<p>

He did tell her that she didn't have to bother with the journals anymore. She was grateful for that. She'd learned more about the Malfoy family than she'd ever cared to know. She just took the rest of the afternoon to eat, take a long luxurious bath in the tub she'd miss when she left, and get ready for dinner at the Potters'.

She pulled on the summery dress she'd packed and slipped on the wedge sandals that went with it and gave herself a once over in the mirror. Pleased with the results of her extra pampering, she walked down the hall to Draco's room.

Knocking lightly, she poked her head in and saw Draco reading the book she'd set up for him before she left for her own room. "I'm off to Harry's," she said.

He looked up at her and made a nodding motion with his head. "Do you need anything?" she asked. He turned his head to her left to indicate 'no'.

"Are you sure you want me to come back tonight? I can go back to my own apartment if you'd rather..." His head jerked harshly to the left.

"Okay, then I'll come find you when I return?" she asked, wondering if he wanted her to. She had a feeling she was going to miss him when she was gone.

He nodded slightly, looking her up and down before she left his room. All he could think was how beautiful she looked. He wished he were escorting her to dinner, even if it meant he'd have to put up with Potter and his wife for the whole evening.


	11. Dinner Interrupted

**Dinner Interrupted**

Hermione already missed Draco when she landed in Harry and Ginny's living room. She Flooed because it was easier than Apparating. She still wasn't able to Apparate in and out on her own, but the Floo was open for her use any time she needed it.

It was strange that she could feel such a connection to someone she'd only reconnected with a mere four days prior. Before that, she hadn't thought twice about Draco. _Was he really Draco now?_ She didn't like how her emotions were slipping from her control. Try as she might, she couldn't help but think about him, even when she told herself not to. He'd slipped under her skin and she couldn't get him out.

"Hermione!" Ginny cried as she greeted her in the living room. "We are in the kitchen. Come join us." Hermione shook the thoughts of Draco from her head, and followed her redheaded friend into the kitchen.

'We' consisted of Harry, Ginny, and Oliver Wood. She knew that Harry had stayed in contact with the good looking Quidditch player as he went on to play for Puddlemere United - ironically, Ron was his back up - but she didn't realize he was a close enough friend to be invited over for 'special news'. _Is anyone else coming, or is this some awkward double date?_

"You remember Oli, right?" Harry asked, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

_Oh yes, Harry. You are quite the spy. _Hermione didn't know whether she should be offended that her friends thought she needed setting up, or flattered that they'd pulled out their big gun for the occasion. Oliver was smart, good looking, and rich. She could do worse.

"Of course," Hermione said, smiling at the tall brunette next to her best friend. Just because it was a set up didn't mean she couldn't enjoy it. She was in great need for a distraction after all. "Hi, Oliver."

"Hello, Hermione," Oliver smiled warmly at her and kissed her hand.

_Such a gentleman. _He wasn't Draco, but he was certainly a nice replacement. _Damnit, Hermione. Stop thinking about Malfoy!_

"Okay," Ginny said, clapping her hands together, obviously satisfied with her own matchmaking. "Hermione, help me with the salads. Dinner's almost ready." Hermione smiled at the two men before doing as she was told.

* * *

><p>'<em>I wish I could explain my feelings. I've tried to appeal to my father's sensibilities, but every time I try to tell him about Raoul and me, I just can't. No Malfoy has ever been inflicted with this...condition. Why is it happening to me? Why do I love a man?'<em>

Draco sighed as he read Cepheus' journal. He felt very sorry for his ancestor. He understood what it was like to grow up in a stifling household with a father who was too stubborn to talk with. He knew what it was like to be forced to date people he had no interest in. The only woman he'd had a real interest in, in his whole life, was Granger. Sure, he'd been interested in _fucking_ women. Actually caring about them...not once.

Everything was getting so complicated. One minute, he was considering breaking his rule about sex only - Granger was actually worth the effort - and the next his father was telling him that the only way to break this 'spell' was to make a hard and fast commitment.

He didn't even know if Hermione would go for that. Even though he'd felt this spark for her, he wasn't sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. It had only been four days. She wouldn't even sleep with him. Why should she fall in love with him? Could he even fall in love with her?

_Could he fall in love with anyone?_

* * *

><p>"So, where is James?" Hermione asked as she sipped her wine over summer salads on the back patio of Harry's house in Godric's Hollow.<p>

"He's with my mother," Ginny said. "We wanted an 'adults only' night," she said with a heavy sigh of what sounded like relief. Hermione knew Harry and Ginny loved their little boy, but it was always nice to have a little alone time. She imagined the gifts of having a child far outweighed the bad, though. At twenty-three, her biological clock was already beginning to tick. She longed to have a family like her best friend.

Oliver and Harry were talking Quidditch, which bored Hermione to tears, but she kept a smile on her face, willing to give Oliver the benefit of the doubt. Not all women hated Quidditch. Ginny, for instance, loved it. In addition, as a professional player, she assumed Oliver had little else to talk about. _Not a soul mate, then._

Who the hell was she kidding? She hadn't given Oliver a chance to _woo_ her. Everything he did she compared to something Draco had done better. Four bloody days in the ferret's presence and he's put her off all other men. Merlin, this was beginning to be a real problem.

"Come help me with dinner," Ginny said, in her not so subtle way of getting a chance to speak alone.

Hermione obediently followed and was pleased to note that Oliver stopped his conversation with Harry to help her with her chair. _Not bad, young man._

Hermione had barely stepped into the kitchen when Ginny rounded on her, eyes bright and excited. "So, what do you think of Oliver?"

Hermione chuckled at her friend's excitement. "I knew him before, Ginny."

"I know, but hasn't he gotten hotter?" Ginny queried.

Hermione burst into laughter at that. "Ginny, do you have the hots for your husband's friend? I'm surprised at you."

"Of course not," Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm more than satisfied by Harry." The faraway look in Ginny's eyes was enough to make Hermione want to throw up the nice salad she'd just eaten.

"Gross, Gin! He's like my brother. Please keep your sex fantasies to yourself!" Hermione said between laughter.

Ginny giggled, "Well, you brought it up."

"Not quite," Hermione argued.

"Anyway, what about Oliver?" Ginny said, coming back to her original point.

"He's nice enough," Hermione said, running her finger along the edge of the kitchen counter.

"Nice enough? Okay, what's wrong with him?" Ginny sighed.

"Nothing!" Hermione defended. "He's great, but didn't you notice he had more in common with Harry than me?"

"Well, he's not only about Quidditch. I just think he's nervous," Ginny explained.

"Nervous?" Hermione sputtered in disbelief.

Ginny grinned evilly at this. "Of course, nervous, silly. When Harry told Oliver that you'd be coming to dinner, he seemed very excited. He's been pumping us both for information all week."

_That_ threw Hermione for a loop. She'd never considered herself worthy to be the topic of conversation. She knew she was attractive enough, of course she was smart, could be funny when she wanted...but she wasn't gorgeous like Ginny. She wasn't girly like Lavender or Pavarti. She wasn't what most guys were into. She was too complicated, too smart, and too much work, usually.

Ron had been an exception to the rule because they'd grown up together. But all things being equal, if they'd met when they were adults, they would have never happened. He wouldn't have looked at her twice.

"Earth to Hermione!" Ginny called, waving her hand in Hermione's face to get her attention. "It can't be that much of a shock that a man finds you attractive. Now, go in there and be a good girl. Talk to him. Set him at ease a bit."

Hermione still didn't know whether Oliver was her type, and she had a nagging thought of Draco rolling around in her head, but figured, if Oliver really did like her, maybe she shouldn't be too quick to judge.

* * *

><p>'<em>If not for Andromeda, I'd still be a snake. I don't know if I can ever love her like she loves me, but I'll try. I have no choice. I still wonder what Raoul is doing. I long to be in his arms and feel his breath against me. But for my wife, I will leave him in the past. She deserves better. She's the best friend I ever had.'<em>

It was so fucking sad. Draco wasn't a sappy bloke, but really, what a raw fucking deal. It made him feel a little better about his own situation. As much as he hated being manipulated by his dead ancestors, at least he had options. Cepheus had none. Give up his lover, or remain a snake forever.

He wondered what Hermione would say to this whole situation. He'd have to tell her soon. Would she even know she was the only person he could see himself with in the future? Who'd believe him? It had only been four days. Four anxiety and stress filled days.

Maybe that was all this was. He was clinging to her because he was scared and stressed, and she was helping him.

No, that couldn't be true. As much as he loathed admitting his stupidity, he recognized that the gnawing need to be mean to her in school came from somewhere that had nothing to do with his racism. She had always been an enigma to him. She was a focal point in his life before he even knew it. She'd changed him. It was her magical abilities and attitude that had him first question his families blood purity beliefs. She'd played a starring role in more parts of his life than he'd realized.

_Am I really considering this?_ Draco shook his head back and forth trying to clear his thoughts. _Am I really considering asking Hermione to do this for me?_ It was a selfish thing, he knew. He didn't even know how she felt or what she wanted. However, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted her...all of her. The thought of lifelong commitment scared him, but it intrigued him as well. That was something he'd never felt before.

It really didn't matter. The chances of Hermione going for it were slim and nil. Although, he was a Malfoy. Malfoys were nothing if not able to get their way. But did he want to manipulate her? Would he even be considering this if it weren't for the curse?

_Of course not...but one day, maybe..._

* * *

><p>Okay, so he might have been a jock, but he was actually a nice person. After a few false starts, Hermione and Oliver had settled into a comfortable conversation next to each other on Harry and Ginny's couch, while the two lovebirds made goo-goo eyes at each other from the love seat.<p>

Hermione couldn't help but feel a little guilty about flirting with Oliver. She didn't really know why, but she felt like she was betraying Draco. It was absurd, of course. They were nothing to each other. Not even friends by the strictest standards. Still, they'd kissed. He'd made it clear he was interested in her, at least in some respects, and since she returned his feelings, she felt guilty.

Oliver was nice, but he didn't make her feel like Draco did. Even with her denials, she couldn't avoid facing the fact that she liked being around Malfoy and wished things could be different. If he weren't such a ladies' man, if he didn't have so much baggage and issues, then she'd like to think they might have been able to have something. The what ifs could kill her, which is why she pushed the thought aside and turned back to Oliver.

"So, what's it like traveling around the world?" she asked. She'd wanted to travel her whole life, but as circumstances never allowed her to, she was envious.

"Well, I'd like to say it's glamorous," Oliver said with a masculine chuckle. "But really, when I'm not playing and practicing, I'm pretty beat."

"All those places and you never get to enjoy them?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I enjoy the game," Oliver explained, but before he could continue, there was loud crash from behind them. Hermione started and looked to Harry and Ginny for some clue as to what the hell happened.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny snapped angrily at whoever had entered, ungracefully, through the Floo behind her. The smell of firewhisky hit her, and she wrinkled her nose as she turned around to see who it was that had her two friends looking so angry.

"Ron?" Her breath caught when she saw him standing there, more than disheveled, obviously drunk, and vibrating with anger. "What are you doing here?" She whipped back around to Harry.

"You said he wouldn't be there. You promised me!" she cried. The last thing she wanted was to see her former best friend and ex ever again. He'd cut his ties with her when he'd lashed out at her for being honest with him. Maybe it was still too fresh. Maybe one day she could forgive him, but as of now, she had no intention.

"I swear we didn't tell him you were here," Ginny said, her eyes still trained on her brother. "How did you find out, anyway?" She directed her question to Ron.

"Charlie can't to keep a secret," Ron said, his words slurred.

"Ron, you are drunk. Just go home. We'll talk tomorrow," Harry said, coming round the couch toward his friend. When he tried to take his arm, Ron swatted at him, turning his attention to Hermione and Oliver.

"What do we have here?" he said coming closer. "Already moved on, have we Hermione?"

He was drunk as a skunk and, looking at him, she couldn't even remember why she ever found him attractive or worthy of her time. He was a petulant child, throwing years of friendship out the window because she'd hurt him inadvertently.

"Weasley, I suggest you go home and sleep it off," Oliver said, his tone forceful and commanding.

"We aren't on the Quidditch pitch, Wood," Ron spat, his face screwed up in disgust.

"Ron, will you just go?" Hermione said with a sigh. "I don't have anything to say to you."

But Ron's attention had turned from Hermione to Oliver. "Think you're man enough to take me, do you?" Ron snarled.

Had she not been in the middle of the situation, she might have found it funny. Oliver was standing calmly at her side, clearly irritated, but not at all threatened. Ron was staring him down like he'd challenge him to a duel at any moment. It was clear who'd win the fight if it came to that.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Weasley, go sleep it off. I know you don't actually do much on the team, but if you show up to the game tomorrow looking like you were run over by a hippogriff...well, it reflects poorly on all of us."

Hermione smirked at that. One thing she could appreciate about Oliver, even if he wasn't a soul mate, he was quick.

"Oi! Don't you talk to me like that. Not after lapping up my seconds!" Ron shouted.

Hermione had a pretty good idea where this was going and bit her lip, wondering what she should do.

"Ron!" Ginny gasped, outraged for Hermione.

Hermione was grateful to her friend for always taking her side when it came to Ron. It couldn't have been easy.

Ron ignored everyone but Oliver, starting him down on unsteady legs. "She's no good, you know. Bloody boring in the sack. Waste of your time, really," Ron slurred.

No matter how hard she tried not to care, his words cut through her like a knife. It was one thing for him to accuse her of these things alone, in the heat of an argument. It was something else for him to say it in front of other people.

"You're a real charmer, aren't you, Weasley?" Oliver sneered, disgust laced in his voice.

She took a shaky breath, feeling like she'd been slapped by Ron's words and took a step back. "I'm going to go," she said, her own voice quivering. _I will not cry over this worthless bastard_, she told herself.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry said, looking at her with sad disappointment in her eyes.

"It's not your fault," Hermione said with a slight smile.

"Where are _you_ going," Ron demanded as she made her way around him toward the Floo.

"Away from you," Hermione snapped, her eyes blazing. "Leave me alone!"

"Hermione, let me escort you," Oliver offered coming toward her, but was stopped by Ron's heavy body butting into him.

"You leave her alone!" Ron snapped.

"What is wrong with you, Weasley?" Oliver said, irritation in his voice. "She's meant to be your friend."

"What she is to me is none of your concern!" Ron said. "You can just find another slag. Run along."

Hermione couldn't believe he'd actually called her a slag on top of everything else. "I'll call you tomorrow, Oliver," she said. She wanted him to just let it go. It wasn't worth a fight. Ron was obviously out of it. "Ginny, Harry I've got to go. I'm sorry I couldn't stay to hear your news. I'll Floo over tomorrow," Hermione promised. She had to get out of there before the tears she felt stinging her eyes had the chance to fall.

Pushing past Ron, she made her way to the Floo, picking up the powder and calling 'Malfoy Manor'. It wasn't until she landed in Draco's Floo room that she realized Ron had grabbed hold of her and joined her for the journey.

* * *

><p>Even as a snake, he could feel the wards alerting him there had been a breach. <em>What the blue fuck is going on<em>, he wondered. It wasn't like anyone wanted his company that wasn't already allowed. The rogue Death Eaters that wanted him dead were long gone, either dead or in Azkaban, at least he thought.

He knew, internally, whoever had entered did it through the Floo. Looking at the clock, he noticed it was nearly ten o'clock. He had no idea when Hermione would be coming home, but he didn't want her to walk into a dangerous situation. _What the hell can I do? I'm a fucking snake._

Regardless, he slithered out of his bed and made his way down to the Floo room. Whoever it was would at least get a fright, and perhaps that would be enough. He didn't want to think about what would happen if it _were_ an old enemy, waiting to finally enact vengeance on him.

He'd just worked himself up enough to believe he could actually take on an attacker in his snake form when he heard Hermione's voice. _Odd._ He knew he'd set the wards to recognize her. Then there as another voice. A rougher one. Obviously male. He moved quickly up toward the door, pushing it open to peer inside.

_Well, there's the intruder. The Weasel himself!_ Draco seethed as he watched the redheaded boy shout at Hermione.

"Ron, what are you doing here? You could have hurt both of us by grabbing me!" Hermione shouted, clearly still shocked at seeing Ron in Draco's house.

_You and me both, Granger_.

"What are you doing at Malfoy Manor?" Ron demanded. "First I find you giggling like an idiot with Oliver Wood, and now you are going home to Malfoy Manor!"

The Weasel sounded hysterical, and Draco was just trying to piece together enough information to figure out what the hell was going on.

"I was not, 'giggling' with Oliver. I was enjoying his company while we waited for Harry and Ginny to tell us their big news. You barged in like a lunatic. You have no right to be mad at me!" Hermione shouted back.

_Well, that explains some of it. _Although, Draco found himself very curious about this Oliver situation. He stamped down the jealous feelings to pay attention to the two fighting exes in front of him.

The Weasel looked drunk. Mixed with his natural hotheadedness, this could be a dangerous situation. Regardless of anything else, Draco would make sure Hermione didn't get hurt by the idiot who was clearly in a jealous rage.

"Tell me why you are here, Hermione. Right now!" Ron demanded, stamping his foot like a child.

"Get out!" Hermione yelled back. "I don't owe you anything. You are the one who decided to dissolve our friendship just because I didn't want to be your girlfriend anymore. You are the one you accused me of being cold and unfeeling, so why are you here?"

_Cold? Unfeeling? _Even in his hateful days, those were two words he'd never use to describe Granger.

"I just meant that if you gave it a little more effort, especially in bed, we could be happy!" Ron tried to explain.

"Ron, do you realize that I never once had good sex with you!" Hermione said, seeming to finally admit what she'd wanted to say for years.

Draco found himself intrigued. He could read between the lines. The Weasel had never made her come. _Merlin, I'd love to show her good sex_. He shook his head of the erotic pictures that thought aroused and turned back to the fighting pair.

"As if you ever tried!" Ron sneered. "Don't blame me for your own insecurities. You know as well as I that you never put in an effort. That's not excuse for you running off like a slag with Wood and Malfoy!"

Draco felt his blood boil, ready to pounce on this stupid git for talking to Hermione like that.

"Which is it, Ron. Am I a whore or am I a prude? I can't be both," she said with a wary sigh. "Will you just go?"

"No, you are coming with me," Ron said, roughly grabbing Hermione's arm, even as she tried to wrench it away. She was too slow and his firm grip took hold.

"Ron, you're hurting me!" she cried, trying to get out of his reach. It was then that Draco felt the tingling starting again. The anger at seeing Weasley manhandle Hermione ripped through him at the same moment. He slipped from the room just as he regained his human body and called, quietly, for Martin to bring him clothes.

Hermione was still trying to wrestle her arm away from Ron, who was pulling her toward the Floo, when Draco stalked into the room.

"Weasley, do unhand Granger or I'll be forced to call the Aurors and have you arrested." He was barely containing his anger. Hermione's cheeks were stained with tears. How could this silly boy call her his friend and treat her like this? Regardless of a break-up, you never lay your hands on a woman.

Hermione didn't know if she was more embarrassed or relieved to see Draco there. She didn't like the thought of being rescued, but at the moment, she just wanted Ron far, far away. She tugged her arm back, hoping Draco would have surprised Ron enough for him to loosen his grip. No such luck.

"What have you done to her?" Ron demanded, still sure that she could only be at Malfoy Manor because Malfoy was keeping her prisoner or something. Didn't he remember that Draco had helped them in the war?

"Nothing. But I can assure you that I _will_ do something to you if you don't take your filthy hands off her," Draco said, his jaw twitching slightly.

Was he...protecting her? Did he really care? The thought made Hermione's head swim.

"Make me," Ron said petulantly.

"With pleasure," Draco said with an evil gleam in his eye. The next thing she knew his fingers closed gently around her upper arm, holding her steady as he pulled Ron's fingers from around her flesh.

In one swift movement, Draco shoved Ron back into the Floo, announcing Harry's house as his destination. Hermione gasped as she saw Ron's shocked face sucked up the Floo. Draco cast blocking charms on the device before turning back to Hermione.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Not really," she admitted. Her arm hurt. Her head hurt. Her feelings hurt.

"You want a drink?" Draco asked with a sigh.

"Yes, please," Hermione said. A drink was exactly what she needed. _Stupid Ronald Weasley._


	12. Irrational Responses

**Irrational Responses**

Draco led Hermione into the sitting room next to his bedroom. It was where he usually entertained the scant few guests he had, but more importantly, it was where he kept the booze. He was still controlling the urge to march right back down to the Floo, go to Potter's house, and give Weasley the ass beating of his pathetic little life.

Granger had calmed down considerably as they walked, her shaky breath evening out until she seemed to have gained control of her emotions. He really didn't know what to say, especially considering he was finding himself a little out of control of his own emotions at the moment.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Hermione said as she sat on the couch and waited for him to make the drinks. "I didn't know he had ahold of me until I was already here."

"Don't worry about that," he assured her. "He's not getting in again."

She smiled up at him gratefully. "It's just hopelessly embarrassing," she finally admitted, taking a long swig from the tumbler of firewhisky he'd prepared for her.

He was shocked that she'd make such an absurd statement. What was to be embarrassed of, other than the fact that she gave a crap what that moron thought of her?

"Excuse me?" he said, hoping for her to explain herself.

She refused to make eye contact, but she did keep talking. "Everything from our relationship out in the open for you, Oliver, Ginny and Harry. He doesn't know how to keep private matters private," she grumbled.

"Granger, no one believes a thing that idiot says," Draco assured her. "I wouldn't worry about it." She smiled at that, and he felt better for making her feel better. It was a strange feeling, having someone else's emotions weigh on your own. It wasn't entirely unpleasant. Sure, he felt the sting of dependence, and that was scary, but when she was happy, he was happy. It was a kind of happy he'd never felt before. More fulfilling.

"Well," she said with a sigh, "I can't believe him. After all that."

"What happened with you two anyway?" Draco asked casually, slipping into his seat next to her on the couch. It was rather obvious Granger dumped the Weasel. Good thing, too, or he'd have to question her sanity. But he had to admit, he was intrigued.

She shifted uncomfortably next to him, which only brought her closer, her cotton dress brushing against his arm. "You know as well as I do that Ronald and I would never work out. I just didn't see it in school." She sighed, swigging her drink again as she relaxed against the cushions of the couch.

"Of course, Harry, Ron, and I were always fighting for our lives. Harry was always like a brother to me. But Ron...sometimes he'd been considerate. I don't know, I guess it was the stress of the situations we found ourselves in. He liked me, and I liked him. Who can explain it?" Hermione thought back to their childhood together. Ron had always had a tendency to be self-absorbed, but she never knew him to be as blatantly hurtful as he'd been once they started sleeping together.

"Mystery of the universe," Draco muttered, a good-natured chuckle at the edge of his voice. She was grateful that he knew just what to say and not say. She didn't want to be told Ron was stupid. She knew that well enough already.

"Anyway, as time went on, I sacrificed more and more to be with him, and he gave nothing in return. I'd given up on the idea that we'd have some great passionate romance," Hermione explained.

After the first month of perfunctory sex that never yielded results, she just assumed it was normal. The feeling Draco gave her when he pressed her against the bed two nights ago was more passion than she'd felt compared to the entire time of her relationship with Ron.

"So, that's why you broke it off?" Draco said, but it was more of a statement than a question. Most people would have, but not Hermione. She stuck with Ron even through that.

"No," she said, finishing her drink. "I stayed. But when he took the job with the United and didn't even care what I thought about it, or bother to ask how I'd feel, I couldn't take it anymore. We were nothing more than roommates who had really bad sex." That was putting it as nicely as possible.

Malfoy snorted, and Hermione couldn't help but smirk to herself. "Anyway, I told him that I just wanted to be friends, and he flew off the handle."

"He had to understand the two of you had nothing in common, though," he pointed out.

"I don't think Ron is as self-aware as he is self-obsessed. Regardless of whether we would work out, he had our future planned. I'd have five to ten of his children, stay at home like his mother, and wait on him hand and foot," Hermione said rolling her eyes. She felt the drink warming her up and tipped her glass at Malfoy who rose to pour them each another.

"He would have cheated on me, given a few more years, and I'd have been chained to the stove making food for a small army," Hermione said.

"So, you don't want children..." Malfoy said, his voice trailing off slightly.

Hermione shook her head and shifted toward him as he joined her on the couch again, handing her a second glass of firewhisky.

"No, I want children. I just don't want to be Molly Weasley," she clarified.

Draco could understand that. It was one thing to be a mother. It was another thing to be _only_ a mother. It worked for some women, but Hermione was not one of those women. He'd never force her to stay home if they...

_Merlin be damned, Draco, don't start planning your future already. You don't even know if she wants it._ In all his internal debate, he finally realized that he'd never find anyone _better_ than Hermione. The only last hurdle was getting her to want him. He'd never had to pursue women before, so he was a bit lost.

He noticed that Hermione winced as she extended her arm, flexing it as if testing it out. "Are you okay?" he asked, anger rising up as he realized what she was doing. She was testing out the new wound the Weasel had just given her. _Fucking tosser._

"Yeah," Hermione said, tapping her arm with her wand and sighing with relief. "He doesn't know his own strength. But when I get my hands on him...I shudder to think what Harry and Ginny are doing to him." She giggled at that.

He loved the sound of her laugh. She didn't offer them up easily, but when she did, it was always a reward.

"That was bloody brilliant, sending him off to them. They are pissed that he ruined the night. I didn't even get to hear their news," Hermione explained, resting her head back against the couch and looking up at him.

Her lids were slightly heavier, an effect from the firewhisky, and he had to stifle the urge to groan at how vulnerable she looked. If he were the same man he was five days ago, she'd have been fucked within an inch of her life by now.

"You know they were just going to tell you they have produced another Potter, right?" he said, shaking the image of Hermione's naked body on top of his from his head.

"How do you know?" Granger gasped.

He couldn't help it, he chuckled. "Come on. When anyone says, 'Come over, we've got news', it means they are having a baby. With a family like hers, I'm surprised that they don't have three or four by now." Draco said, letting his side come into contact with hers on the couch. They were both relaxed and her mind was off Weasley, so he was pleased.

"One more drink," Hermione said, "then I'm cutting myself off."

"Sure thing, madam," Draco said, hopping up and bowing before her. Her infectious giggles made him smile.

* * *

><p>"Come on!" Hermione giggled, her head spinning slightly. She wasn't drunk, but she was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. "Even you have to admit what a prat you were the first three years of school!"<p>

"I resent that," Draco sniffed, raising his nose in the air.

"Oh yeah, what about Buckbeak?" she countered, a smirk on her lips. "You tried to have him killed because he didn't like you."

"That bloody bird nearly killed me!" Draco shot back.

"Whatever," Hermione said with a flick of her wrist, indicating he was delusional. "I suppose you don't remember your little trip into the Forbidden Forest first year either? You were a rather cowardly little boy, weren't you?" She was teasing, and she knew he knew she was teasing. He'd already made fun of her frantic, 'exam mode', and now she was taking the mickey out of him for his spoiled brat behavior when they were younger.

"Says the violent criminal," he replied. "You broke my nose third year, you know that?"

"You deserved it," Hermione said with a shrug. "Act like that again, and you'll get more of the same."

Draco jutted out his bottom lip in the most adorable way. The full pink lip held her complete attention as he looked at her like a lost puppy.

"You'd hurt this beautiful face?"

He did have a beautiful face. He had a beautiful everything. That wasn't the alcohol talking either. Ever since that kiss...her face warmed and her stomach clinched as she thought about it.

"No, that would be a travesty," she joked, but it came out a little more serious than she'd intended. Her eyes were still focused on his mouth as she licked her own lips. Her mouth felt dry all of a sudden.

He tilted his head to the side, looking at her intensely, and she knew she should back away. _Go to bed Hermione. This is getting too intense_. The alcohol made her stand her ground though. So what if she kissed him? Would it really be the end of the world? She'd played safe for so long, she wondered how many opportunities she'd missed by doing the 'right' thing rather than what she wanted.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice husky. It sent a jolt to her core and she nearly moaned. _Fuck it._

She reached out to him pulling him toward her as their lips collided. _Merlin he tastes good. _His lips were hesitant at first, and she wondered if she'd misread the signals, but after a moment's hesitation, he pressed against her, pushing her back against the arm of the couch as he kissed her deeply, thoroughly, and so completely. _He should get a fucking 'O' in kissing, _she mused.

Draco couldn't believe she'd done it, but the minute he felt her lips on his, he was glad she had. He moaned against her lips as she spread her thighs to cradle him between them. The drink had made him a little fuzzy, but he was sober enough to know this was really happening, and it was so much better than he remembered or imagined.

A soft moan escaped her lips when his fingers brushed against her collarbone in their journey to cup her face. He had to get out of the sitting room. If this was going to happen, it was going to happen right. "Do you want to go to my room?" he asked breathlessly as he broke the kiss. He prayed he wasn't jinxing himself by suggesting it.

When he saw her nod up at him, he almost let out a sigh of relief. He prayed to every God he could think of that he didn't lose his human form tonight before sliding off of Hermione and offering her his hand. _This is really going to happen_, he told himself, dying to get her into his bed as soon as possible. He'd never felt this possessed by a woman before, but he didn't care. He wanted her, all of her-now.

Hermione tried to control her rapid heart rate as she followed Draco to his room. It was a short walk, but she felt like everything was going in slow motion. Was she ready for this? She had the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that her heart was about to be broken in a million pieces, but she couldn't help herself, her urges were taking over. She wanted Draco. She wanted him badly, and she just didn't have the will to deny it anymore. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she _could_ do casual. She was an adult now. Silly notions of 'forever' and 'soul mates' were childish and it was best she put them behind her.

He kicked the door shut behind him and descended on her quickly, wrapping both arms around her as he pulled her into his embrace and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue reached out to tangle with hers and her head swam.

As he moved them toward his bed, she felt her stomach flutter, her lust spiking and she considered that she was about to have sex - good sex if the rumors were true. A shiver ran down her spine and she pulled him closer just as her legs hit the edge of his bed, sending them both sprawling on top of his soft comforter.

Draco quickly moved atop her, sliding between her legs again, and continued their heated kiss. "Granger..." he sighed, letting his hands moved up her sides, starting at the hem of her dress, lifting it higher as her felt her soft skin under his fingers.

"You can't even call me by my first name now?" Hermione asked, pulling away and giving him a smirk.

"Hermione," he amended with a lopsided grin. He liked the sound of her given name on his tongue and would love moaning it over and over, so long as she let him continue to kiss and touch her.

Apparently, she wasn't done with his mouth because she pulled him back down to her, capturing his lips in her own. "Draco," she moaned as his fingers twisted around her front and slid over the lace of her bra, catching her already tight nipples. _Merlin's fucking tit, this woman was beautiful when she let go_.

He wanted to capture this moment and watch it over and over, her eyes screwed shut, mouth open as she panted to his touch. He, Draco Malfoy, was making her feel like this. He'd seen a number of women come undone at his hands, mouth, and cock before, but nothing had made him feel this powerful. He knew there was something there with her that he'd never felt before, and though it was too soon to know, he thought it was the makings for true happiness. He prayed he was worthy enough to receive it.

Hermione felt her skin on fire and her head in the clouds. He lifted her dress over his head and she, in turn, pulled the tee shirt he was wearing off. The feeling of skin-to-skin contact shocked her back into reality. "Draco," she half moaned and half called his name. "Draco, we shouldn't..." she started, and she was shocked at the hurt expression that filled his eyes momentarily as he looked up at her.

"Why?" he asked. "We both want this."

"I..." Hermione didn't know what to say. She _did_ want it. She wanted to feel him inside her more than anything at the moment. But it was reckless, and she didn't have any reason to believe it would be anything more than sex to him. And she'd had a lot to drink...

"I'm drunk," she blurted out, realizing it was the only non-complicated explanation for what she was dry humping him one minute and backing off the next. It was half-true anyway.

"Oh," he said, pulling back slightly. He didn't want to take advantage of her, she knew. That fact was comforting at least. He looked disappointed and she felt instantly guilty. She was teasing him and it wasn't fair, but she couldn't bring herself to have sex with him knowing things would be the same in the morning as they ever were. She couldn't be that kind of woman. She needed someone strong and dependable, not passionate and reckless.

"I'm sorry," she said, moving to get out of bed. She was ashamed at herself.

"No," Draco said, stopping her from leaving. He pulled her back to him. Was he disappointed? Yes. Did he think there was more to her backing off than the drink? Yes. But what kind of man would he be if he went about letting a girl feel guilty because she admitted she was too drunk to fuck him?

He pushed the thought from his head. He _knew_ she wanted him. He could feel her hips against his. He could smell the lust on her. He could see her dilated pupils when she stared up at him. The thought made his already hard cock pulse. "Stay with me," he finally said. "No sex. Just stay here."

He moved over to give her space on the bed, and noticed that she blushed as she realized she was still only clad in her bra and knickers. To his relief she didn't get dressed, just nodded, and slipped under the covers. He joined her and wrapped both arms around her from behind. The last thought that went through his head was that, even if they hadn't had sex, holding her was heaven.

* * *

><p>Hermione moaned as she snuggled into the warmth of the body behind her. She knew instantly who it was. Stiffening, she felt like knocking her head against the nearest brick wall. <em>How the fuck could I have let this happen?<em>

Her heart fluttered in her chest as an unwelcome emotion overtook her. For a moment, lying there in his arms, his breath slow and heavy against her naked skin, Hermione thought 'I could do this'. But it was just a dream. Draco Malfoy was a playboy and would never be anything else.

She knew that if it hadn't been for his snake problem, they never would have even talked to each other. It had been days since he'd gotten his weekly lay, and he was itching for more. She should just be grateful that she stopped it before it got too far.

Still, as she looked down at his pale skin against her own, she couldn't help but want more. _Ugh! This is exactly why you should have left last night._

She didn't have time to further berate herself because Draco was waking up. He gripped tightened around her and she felt him breathe in the scent of her hair. _Peculiar. _But she couldn't say that it wasn't pleasing to note that, regardless of his inability to be Prince Charming, he still seemed very attracted to her. The bulge poking her in the bum was proof enough of that. She blushed.

Draco couldn't think of a much better way to wake up. Sure, he wished they'd had sex. He was a man after all. When he liked a girl, he wanted to fuck her. It was just basic cause and effect. But waking up next to Granger...well, it was refreshing.

"Morning," he said, his voice still deep and gravely from sleep. "Seems I'm still human. I didn't change back until late last night, so I hope I have plenty of good hours in me." Hermione chuckled nervously and he could already tell that his beautiful wake-up was not going to continue into any kind of good day.

"Look, Draco, we should talk," Hermione said, scooting away.

He felt like he was about to get bashed over the head with cold reality any moment. He didn't bother with a shirt, but Hermione quickly pulled her earlier discarded dress over her head and sat in a chair very far from the bed.

"Don't do this," Draco said. "You and I both wanted it. I understand if you were too drunk, but don't pretend that it meant nothing."

"Like it means anything to _you," _Hermione snapped back.

He had to admit, that hurt. It wasn't as if he could blame her. Before she came into the picture and turned his world upside down, he _didn't _care. Not about her, not about anyone. But she...she changed everything. How could she not see it? "When did I say it didn't mean anything?" he countered, unwilling to back down.

"Two nights ago. You said 'it's not a big deal'. Well, Draco, to me, sex _is_ a big deal. We aren't just humping posts, ready to be used whenever we have an itch to scratch. I can't do that. When sex is involved...my heart gets involved," Hermione explained, her fire petering out at the end. She stared down at her fingernails and bit her bottom lip. It would have been utterly adorable had the situation been different.

Draco sighed. It was now or never. Best he tell her the truth about his condition, like ripping a band-aid off. Maybe if she knew how much he wanted from her, she'd know this was a _very_ big deal to him. "Hermione," he started, trying to get used to using her given name, "I think it's time I told you what my father told me about the Animorphi."

She perked up and he smirked at her. Bloody know-it-all couldn't resist information. It was fucking cute as hell. "Long story short," he said, "my great-great-great- times a million grandfather was gay. When his father caught him with another boy, he cursed him, and made it so that the curse would continue down the line. Every Malfoy man, when he becomes head of the household turns into a snake. The only antidote is a pledge of a woman to promise to produce his heir and a potion made with a few drops of her blood. Furthermore, the head of the Malfoy house and this woman must be in love."

"That's barbaric," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Treating women like breeding stock. Forcing a man into a relationship with a woman when he loves someone else."

"I agree," Draco said, placating her. This was not going as planned. If she thought the whole idea repugnant, she was probably going to be leery of playing a primary role in it all. "But there it is. The reason my father wrote that I'd have it particularly hard is that he died so young, and I'm a bit of an anomaly in the family to begin with."

"Most Malfoys are married by the time this even comes into effect," Hermione supplied.

"Exactly. I'm the first that isn't." Draco replied.

"Hmm," Hermione said, the wheels already turning in her head. He wondered what she was thinking. If he could just read her bloody mind, this would have been a lot easier, but he was going in blind. He had no idea what she would say when he proposed his preposterous idea, and he hated to think what he was about to suggest would ruin the friendship they'd already built. He hated to think of his days without her, now.

"I have an idea," Draco said, pulling her from her thoughts.

She had no idea how to fix this problem. Falling in love was not easy, especially when forced. She wasn't even sure it was possible. She tampered down the fit of jealousy she felt when considering that, in a short time, Draco would be 'in love' with someone, if only to protect himself from the spell. _What a bloody rotten thing to do to a relative!_

"Yes," she prompted him to continue. He looked nervous, and she hadn't the smallest inkling why. Whatever he was about to say, he was concerned with how she would react. She braced herself.

"I know it sounds crazy, but, over the last few days, I've felt a connection to you. I know we have a lot to learn about each other, but I can't think of anyone else." He swallowed hard, feeling himself rambling. "If you are willing, I want to try to make the antidote with you."

Of all the things she'd expected him to say. That was not it. On the other hand, shouldn't she have? He'd just told her, not five minutes ago, that he wanted to have sex with her. It implied a level of care, or at least attraction. But, _this._ Having children with someone, committing to them...that was a big deal. Not something Draco would ever do willingly.

At one moment the idea flashed through her head. A tiny blonde baby in her arms, and a proud Draco by her side. A kiss on the cheek. A loving caress. But then cold reality washed over her. None of that would have even been possible without a curse. This was not about love. This was about getting out of a mess.

Anger boiled up under her skin as she realized how deeply she'd been manipulated. She cared for Malfoy. Why? Because he wanted her to. Maybe he'd played these games with her, hoping she'd fall just enough to agree to his plan.

"No, I don't think so, Malfoy," she said, standing up from the chair. "As kind an offer as it is, I'd rather not be tied to you just because you 'can't think of anyone else'." She knew that she was lashing out because her feelings hurt. If she didn't care she'd just laugh it off and tell him they'd find another option. But she did care. She had grown to feel something very strong for him, and to be seen as little more than an 'out,' hurt.

"No, Hermione, wait," Draco said, starting to panic. "That's not how I meant it." _Bugger all, I fucked it up!_ He rushed toward her, but she continued out of the room and down the hall to her own.

"What I meant was..." he started, but she cut him off as she threw her things into her suitcase.

"I don't care what you meant," Hermione snapped back. She magically zipped her bag closed and turned back to him, her eyes dilated with anger. "Was that what last night was about? Were you hoping I'd fuck you and then fall in love with you and have all your little babies?" She laughed humorlessly and Draco struggled to find a way to fix the mess he'd found himself in.

"No! I don't care about any of that, I just..." he tried, but she was beyond reason, and he didn't want to force her to stay and listen to his babbling, that would just make things worse.

"You just what?" she demanded. "Wanted an easy way out? Good luck Malfoy. I'm leaving. I hope you find what you are looking for."

"Hermione wait!" he pleaded, but she didn't stop. She ran out of the room and down the stairs to the Floo. He hoped she would pause and listen to reason, but by the time he got there, she'd left nothing behind but a bit of Floo powder. The tingling was immediate. Slithering out of the pants he'd been wearing to bed, he stared at the Floo, willing her to come back.


	13. First Dates

**First Dates**

Hermione was shaking by the time she reached her apartment. _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! _She couldn't believe she'd been so close to sleeping with him. All he wanted was to break the curse. The fact that he'd kissed her even before the conversation with his father didn't cross her mind.

She'd wanted him. She'd even fallen for him, as much as one could in less than a week. She'd liked his company and felt better around him than she had even with Harry and Ginny of late. And, though she knew he couldn't return feelings like that for her, she hoped he wanted a legitimate friendship. But what he wanted was to _settle_ just to get over the Animorphi issue.

She slammed her overnight bag down on the bed and stomped into the kitchen, starting the kettle for tea. A strong cup of tea was in order as she tried to calm herself down. She'd made an utter fool of herself, practically throwing herself at him last night. _Stupid, hormonal girl!_

When she realized she had nothing edible in the house, she quickly changed into jeans and a tee shirt and walked out the door. Her apartment only reminded her of Malfoy and she wanted to get out of there. She didn't let the tears reach her eyes, even as the emotion of being hurt and embarrassed overwhelmed her. _Forget him, Hermione. There are plenty of good little Purebloods that would kill to have his babies_. She ignored the jealous rage that boiled up in her at the thought.

* * *

><p>After an hour passed, he knew she wasn't coming back. At least not soon. An unknown emotion swept through him. He knew he hadn't explained to her what he meant properly. It all came out in a rush and he buggered it up. But her reaction was so swift and irrational that he wondered why the thought of being with him was so disturbing. She had kissed him twice now.<p>

He pushed the thought from his mind. He couldn't worry about the whys. He had to think about how to get her back. He never even had the chance to have her, as his own, before she stormed out of his life, miscommunication ruining the hope he'd had for them having a future. _Damn stubborn woman wouldn't hear me out_, he thought to himself.

He considered an alternative for a moment. He _could_ try someone else. When he finally turned back into a human again, he could go out, scope an appropriate 'mate' and get her to fall for him. But he pushed that thought aside. Not only did he not like the idea of tricking a woman into falling for him, he didn't see the potential of love. Not with anyone but Hermione. And she was only 'Hermione' now.

He finally moved away from the Floo, knowing that he'd know if she returned, even if he wasn't staring at the spot she'd left. He went back up to his room and curled up under the covers. He was unwilling to do much else. All he could think about was the feel of her body against his and the way she set it on fire with a single touch. The aching inside was too great to care about anything but getting her back. _I'll figure this out. I'll make her see._

* * *

><p>"As you know," Ginny said, smiling brightly, "we wanted to tell you something last night." Hermione nodded and smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "We're pregnant!" Ginny squealed as if she was unable to keep it inside any longer.<p>

Hermione smiled genuinely at her friends. Harry looked so proud he was about to burst. But, Hermione's mind flashed back to the night before and how Malfoy had told her this would be their news. Her stomach clinched and she pushed the thought away.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked when she didn't have quite the response they'd expected.

"Yes," she smiled a little brighter. "I'm so happy for you! How far along are you?" Ginny and Harry didn't look convinced, but they dropped it for the moment.

"Just over twelve weeks," Ginny said. "We wanted to get past the first trimester, and I had to tell my family first, or they'd kill me."

"Understandable," Hermione said with a chuckle. Molly was probably beside herself with joy at the thought of a new grandchild. She only had three, as it was, after all. Well, four if you counted Teddy, which most people did. "Are you going to find out if it is a boy or girl this time?"

"Yes," Ginny answered before Harry. He just pouted adorably next to his wife. "Last time was torture. If Harry doesn't want to know, we can keep him in the dark, but I'm finding out. This notion that waiting to be surprised is 'fun' is total rubbish."

"Fine," Harry sighed in defeat. "The wife has spoken."

"You have grown into a very smart man," Hermione said with a smirk.

"Anyway," Harry said, changing the subject. "Have you worked out the issue with Malfoy?" Hermione's eyes shot to Ginny who just chuckled.

"If you thought Harry wouldn't tell me, you are daft," she said. "I know you've been helping Malfoy. Since you are here, instead of locked up in his Manor, I assume you figured it out and he's right as rain."

Hermione's guts twisted uncomfortably. She could tell her friends the truth, but that was complex and embarrassing. She didn't relish lying, either. "He figured out what he needs to do to fix the curse," she said, her voice tight. _Yeah, proposition me to be his breeding mare, _she thought to herself. If Harry and Ginny noticed that Malfoy was a sore subject, they didn't make it known. Instead, Ginny insisted that Hermione stay for lunch.

"So," her redheaded friend said, after Harry went upstairs to put James down for his nap. "You left too quickly to let me know what you thought of Oliver."

Hermione sighed; Ginny was definitely not going to let this go. "He's really nice and very handsome," she answered honestly. He would be a great catch for any girl, really. It was too bad her stupid emotions about Malfoy got in the way.

"So, are you going to call him? He was really concerned that you might have thought he overstepped his bounds with Ron last night," Ginny explained.

"Oh, no," Hermione assured, her friend. "He was well within bounds. Was he still here when Ron returned?"

Ginny grinned, "Yes. I have to hand it to Malfoy, sending him right back where he came from was brilliant. Harry nearly punched the git in the face when he got back. We set him right. He shouldn't be a bother anymore." Hermione doubted that. They'd 'set him right' before, but Ron was stubborn.

"Anyway," Ginny said, waving her hand as if to get rid the entire idea of Ron. "Oliver really liked you. He couldn't stop talking about how he wished he'd paid more attention to you in school," Ginny grinned.

Hermione blushed. The pain and embarrassment of the Malfoy debacle receded slightly as she basked in the nice feeling of being admired. It might have been shallow, but every woman liked to hear that a handsome, smart, rich man was smitten with them.

"Oh...I know that look!" Ginny squealed. "Floo call him. Really, Hermione. It's been long enough. Ron is the past. What's to stop you?"

_Malfoy_. But Malfoy shouldn't stop her, should he? He was in the past as well. She's stopped herself from getting too deep with him. She'd cut it off before he could take her heart with him and trample it into the ground. So...what was to stop her from seeing if there was any potential with Oliver?

"I don't know," she said, biting her lip. "I mean, will he think it's strange if I call him out of the blue?"

"No," Ginny said. "In fact, I promised him I'd try and get you to call him."

"You won't stop with the matchmaking until you've gotten me down the aisle, will you?" Hermione smirked, happy to be thinking about anything but Malfoy at the moment. Even if it didn't work with Oliver, a distraction was exactly what she needed.

"Nope," Ginny said. "Now, hand me the tomatoes and you may use my Floo. Off you go." Hermione shook her head in amusement at her friend, but followed her orders, heading into the living room to Floo call Oliver.

* * *

><p>As the day wore on, Draco became antsier. He couldn't sleep. Visions of himself, cradled between Hermione's legs, her head thrown back giving him access to the smooth skin of her neck played over and over in his head. Her scent had permeated his sheets and he couldn't bring himself to have Martin clean them. Even as a snake, he had control over the house elves, but he wanted to be alone more than anything.<p>

Martin had already tried to force him to eat, but he saw no point. He'd eat when he was human again. When he was human again, he'd find a way to tell Hermione what he'd meant to tell her in the first place. He'd make her see that he wasn't just the Slytherin arsehole she remembered from school.

With newfound resolve, he settled into his bed again and let sleep finally take over.

* * *

><p>"I'm really glad you Flooed me," Oliver said, smiling up at her from his place across the table. When she used Harry and Ginny's Floo to tell him she was sorry she ran out on dinner without a proper good-bye, he'd insisted she make it up to him by joining him for dinner that night. She felt something akin to guilt when she agreed, thinking of how she'd just been ready to go to bed with Draco the night before, but pushed it aside. <em>He's in the past, Hermione.<em>

She agreed, and Oliver told her he'd pick her up at seven. Seven o'clock on the dot he showed up at her door, even using the Muggle means to get there. She was impressed. Now, they were sitting in a nice Muggle restaurant he'd chosen and she was starting to relax.

She smiled back at him. He was actually very handsome. He'd grown into a strong man, but he wasn't bulky. His build was actually similar to Draco's..._Malfoy's_. She chastised herself for even thinking about him in the first place. His soft Scottish accent was sexy and he seemed truly interested in her. _This is what you need, Hermione. No complications, just a sexy, nice gentleman willing to knock your socks off._

"So, how did you know about this place?" she asked.

"Oh," Oliver looked away sheepishly. "I asked Harry what kind of food you liked, but as far as being Muggle, my mother was a Muggle."

"I didn't know that," Hermione said. "But you grew up in the Wizarding world, right?"

"Mostly," Oliver said, sipping his wine. "My mother wanted me to know about my Muggle heritage. She went with my father into the Wizarding world." He looked pained as he spoke of his family and Hermione had to wonder why, but she just let him continue. "It was harder for him, you know. He couldn't leave the Wizarding world."

"I can understand how that would be hard," Hermione agreed.

"But my mother taught me about Muggle cooking, cleaning, and culture," Oliver said.

"Oh," Hermione said. "Well, that's sort of a relief." When Oliver looked confused, she continued. "Well, the only friend that I still have who grew up in the Muggle world is Harry. As I'm sure you know, he'd like to distance himself as much as possible from his Muggle upbringing, with good reason." Oliver nodded. "He has dived, head first, into the Wizarding world, but it's been harder for me. I miss my Muggle roots sometimes."

"Is that why you live in Muggle London?" Oliver queried.

"Yes," Hermione admitted. "And why my book shop is close to the border between Muggle London and Diagon Alley."

"I'd like to see your store sometime," Oliver admitted. "I remember how much of a bookworm you were in school." Hermione's face must have shown embarrassment because he immediately backtracked. "It is a good quality, Hermione. I spent so much time focused on Quidditch in school, but I wish I'd have focused on my studies more."

"Why?" Hermione blurted out. She couldn't believe how smooth Oliver was. He said all the right things, and he was so genuine. "You've got Quidditch, haven't you?"

"I can't play forever," Oliver pointed out. "After my career is over, I don't want my life to be over."

"Touché," Hermione said.

* * *

><p>Hermione had had a great time with Oliver at dinner. He might not have given her butterflies as Malfoy did, but he was real and honest. He was nice and sweet and well worth her time. <em>Malfoy only wants one thing. He doesn't know how to be selfless<em>, she reminded herself.

She did feel _something_ as Oliver slipped his hand in hers as they walked down the sidewalk toward her apartment building. It wasn't strong, but it was there, and she felt relieved more than anything, that Malfoy hadn't ruined her ability to react to other men.

When they reached her door, Oliver looked uncertain. "I had a really nice time, Hermione."

"So did I," she answered truthfully.

"I'd like to see you again," he said, looking down at the ground before looking back up at her. "Actually, I'd like to see a lot of you."

From anyone else, his comment would have sounded like an invitation for sex, but she knew exactly what he meant. He wanted exclusivity. After one date, he was ready to give a relationship with her a shot. _Are you ready for that?_ Even if she wasn't, Oliver was an opportunity that she couldn't afford to pass up on.

_What the hell, "_I'd like to see more of you too," she said, smiling up at him through her lashes. She loved the look of relief that graced his features.

"My season is almost over. I've got two more weeks and then I'm all yours," he said, wrapping his arm around her waist. She could tell he wanted to kiss her, but he was afraid of pushing too far too seen. _Well, it wasn't like she hadn't any practice taking the initiative where kissing was concerned of late._

Reaching up on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips against his, happy to feel him take control once she gave the green light. His arm tightened around her waist as his other hand came up to cup her cheek pulling her deeper into the kiss that she'd started. His tongue slipped past her lips and she sighed against him.

It was short, sweet, and thorough, their first kiss. As he pulled away, Hermione noticed a silly grin on his face and smiled. "I'll call you when I get back from Madrid," Oliver promised.

"Okay," she said, still reeling from the kiss.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Oliver." She entered her apartment and dropped her keys on the table near the door. _Well, _she thought to herself, _maybe I just need to give it time._ The kiss had been good, but it paled in comparison to the feelings Malfoy erupted in her with one small touch. She hated herself for thinking about him when she committed herself to Oliver. _Bloody fucking ferret!_

But Oliver was on the right track. She felt sure that after a few more dates, Malfoy would be relegated to the recesses of her mind where he belonged.


	14. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

**Two Steps Forward, One Step Back.**

He felt that hollow feeling in the pit of whatever was functioning as his stomach. It was the sickly feeling of extreme hunger. He'd been putting it off, hating to eat in his snake form, but after two days of not changing, he was losing the battle. This was the longest he'd spent as a snake for one solid block since the whole ordeal started. It was beginning to affect him.

He felt slightly deranged mentally summoning Martin, but it worked. He was pleased to note that Martin also seemed to know exactly what he needed. A tray of roast beef was placed on his bedside table before Martin went about cleaning up the room. Not that it needed it. Draco hadn't left his bed since Hermione left.

Hermione...

The sick feeling didn't go away as he ate. The thought that he'd ruined things settled like a stone in the pit of his stomach. He'd been banking on being able to go to her the moment he changed back to himself, ready to plead his case to her. Make her understand that his feelings were real and that he was grateful that he'd been thrown together with her. Problem was, he hadn't turned human since. And he was having the sneaking suspicion that he never would again. It was over. Just like that.

"Master Draco," Martin asked. "Shall I bring the young lady here? You must speak with her."

_Wow, the elf really did know what he was thinking and feeling_.

He assured the little elf that he did not want him to contact Hermione. She'd made her choice and she had the right to stand by it. Just because he was in trouble didn't mean she'd have to ruin her life by staying with him. He could have made his case better, but she didn't want him like he wanted her.

Martin just shook his head and 'popped' out of the room, leaving Draco to wallow in self-pity.

* * *

><p>"Hermione, so help me, if you call Oliver 'nice' one more time..." Ginny threatened, her voice stern.<p>

"Well, he is!" Hermione countered as she counted the day's take in the cash register of her bookshop. Ginny had met her there, wanting to get out of the house while her mother watched James. Harry would be joining them later.

"Nice is what you call someone who hasn't a chance of getting into your knickers. Calling a guy 'nice' is the kiss of death," Ginny went on dramatically.

"Oh really, Gin." Hermione chuckled, ignoring the voice in her head that was agreeing with her friend. "Sometimes all a girl wants is 'nice'. Not everything has to be a romance novel."

"Oh, it's worse than I thought," Ginny sighed. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Hermione answered honestly. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. He was rich, smart, funny, beautiful, and extremely sweet. He listened to her, but he wasn't too quiet. He liked Quidditch, obviously, but he actually had other varied interests. If she were writing out a list of qualities she wanted in a future husband, Oliver would have them all. Except...

He didn't make her toes tingle. He didn't send her guts twisting into delicious knots at his touch. He didn't make her heart race with one look. In her whole life, only Draco gave her that. But was that even real? If it was a result of the curse, it meant nothing. And passion was fleeting, right? Why waste her time on passion when there were more lasting qualities.

"Hermione, I know there is something wrong. Oliver might not see it, but I do. You are holding back with him," Ginny said. She was always more perceptive than others gave her credit for.

Hermione sighed. The truth was too complicated. But then again, who else could she tell but her best friend? "Well, you know I was helping Draco..."

"Yes, with his reptilian STD," Ginny giggled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not an STD. Anyway, I don't know how to explain it, but spending time with him...he was different. He wasn't nice. He was the same snarky bastard he's always been, but he _was_ different. And he...and I...well we..." Hermione didn't have the first idea how to explain what happened between them. In hindsight, it was just a few intense snogs. In reality, it was so much more. To her, at least.

"Did you fuck Draco Malfoy!?" Ginny almost shouted before quieting herself, both of them thankful the shop was closed.

"NO!" Hermione cried. "We never got that far. But I felt something. And...well, the Sunday morning he told me he'd discovered the cure for the curse, or spell, or whatever you want to call it."

"And..." Ginny prompted.

"Basically, he has to fall in love with a woman who falls in love with him, and then she has to commit to giving him an heir. There is a bit about a potion as well, but I didn't stick around long enough to find out the details," Hermione said. _Yeah, I was too busy trying not to cry as I realized he wanted to use me as a breeding cow._

"Wow, Malfoys are a fucked up bunch, eh?" Ginny said, shaking her head in wonder. "So, I still don't get what the big deal is. Help him find someone crazy enough to fall in love with him. Done."

Hermione grimaced at the thought. "You don't..." Ginny started, "You don't have real feelings for him, do you?"

"I...I don't know. I feel something. And after Saturday night..." Hermione started, still not able to get a handle on what she really felt.

"Wait, what happened Saturday night?" Ginny asked.

Well, if she was already telling the story, she might as well tell the whole thing. Sighing, she told Ginny to sit and started from the beginning, telling her every detail of her time with Draco Malfoy over the past week.

* * *

><p>"We shouldn't be discussing Master Draco," Katherine said to her brother. She was worried about the Master of the Manor as well, but it wasn't right to be discussing such things.<p>

"But he's sick. I know it," Martin said, his anxiety growing.

"I won't discuss it further. It is our job merely to serve," she said with an imperious tone. Martin just shook his head. He loved his Master, far more than the brute who owned them before, and he wouldn't let anything happen to him. He'd just have to watch and make sure Master Draco did not come to any real harm as a result of the spell he was under, or the absence of the girl he loved.

* * *

><p>"But <em>Malfoy?<em>" Harry said, his voice incredulous as he got into bed with his wife.

"I don't know how it happened, but she's got it bad for him and she's in the most absurd kind of denial about it," Ginny said.

"No. She liked Oliver. She went out with him the other night, and he tells me they are going out again tomorrow. She's even taking a Portkey to Paris to meet him," Harry reasoned.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her clueless husband. If it didn't smack him in the face, he was totally oblivious to it. "Dear, I'm telling you, she's not as interested in Oliver as she is in Draco."

"Well, who cares?" Harry came back, irrationally. "She obviously likes Oliver, and he's better for her than Malfoy." Ginny just sighed and dropped the subject. Harry wasn't inclined to believe that a saint deserved Hermione, let alone his mortal enemy.

* * *

><p>Hermione smiled brightly at Oliver while he retold a story about a time when his mother had taken him to a Muggle circus. She remembered her first circus experience well. His perspective of such a spectacle was amusing, though.<p>

"I love when you smile," he told her, and it didn't sound sappy. It was a hard thing to do, saying something like that without sounding ridiculous.

"Thanks," she blushed.

"Thank you for coming to Paris to meet me," Oliver said.

"Oh, yes. You had to twist my arm to get me to come to this awful city for a romantic dinner," Hermione joked.

"I love Quidditch, but right now, I wish I was in England more," he continued, looking at her seriously.

"Well, the season is almost over," she reasoned. "Besides, I think you'd find I'm wholly boring to be around most of the time. This way, I keep my mystery."

Oliver laughed at that. "Boring? I doubt it." The way he looked at her made her mind travel, immediately, back to the Manor and Malfoy's aroused gaze staring down at her. She quickly pushed the thought aside.

"Trust me, it's true," Hermione said with a less convincing smile.

"I'd see you home, but team rules dictate that I can't leave the city. I have your Portkey though," he said, handing her a Muggle thimble.

"It's okay. I understand," Hermione told him, taking one last look out at the sight of the Eiffel Tower, which was prominent from their place in the restaurant.

"Here," Oliver said, standing and motioning for her to do the same. "Let me give you a proper goodbye."

She slipped out of her seat and moved toward him, shivering as his hands moved around her waist, pulling her close to him. His breath smelled of rosemary, probably from his dinner, and she tilted her chin to look up at him.

"You are beautiful," he said, his voice tender. If only he could evoke the reactions she wanted him to.

"You're not so bad yourself," she admitted, leaning forward in hopes that she could make the feelings come. Maybe if she just tried harder...

His lips met hers and she let herself dissolve into the kiss. He did taste good. He was an adequate kisser. But there was no rush of moisture to her nether regions. There was no tingling in her limbs. It was just a kiss. She was disappointed, but she vowed to try harder. Draco Malfoy didn't hold the only keys to her heart or her hormones.

_His mouth was like fire on her skin. White blonde hair ticked her flesh, but all she could think about was his fingers probing her sopping cunt while his mouth licked and nipped at the skin of her chest._

"_Yes..." she hissed, pulling him closer. She wanted him inside her. She wanted everything from him, and she wanted it all now._

"_Please..." she begged._

_His rugged voice, laced with lust answered her. "You are mine, Granger."_

"_Inside me, please..." she panted, feeling her pussy already contracting before he plunged into her hot depths. She screeched in pleasure, feeling more complete than ever before..._

_Then suddenly, she wasn't in Malfoy's bed anymore. She was sitting on the back patio of the Manor, sipping iced tea as she watched a small blonde boy pick his father's favorite flowers right out of the ground._

"_Mummy, looky!" he said, holding the droopy flowers out to her, the dirt and roots still hanging from them. Her eyes swelled with love and pride._

"_Are those for me?" she asked._

"_Uh huh!" He said, trotting over and placing them on the patio floor next to her._

"_They are beautiful," a sexy baritone said from behind her._

"_Daddy!" the child cried and threw himself in his father's arms. Hermione's tears increased as she watched Draco holding their son, a look of extreme pride and love on his face._

_He began saying something to her, but she was already being pulled out of her restless sleep..._

Hermione gasped, both covered in sweat and her arousal as she woke suddenly. _What the fuck!_

That had been both the hottest and the most fulfilling dream she'd ever had. _Merlin's saggy balls, I need to stop thinking about Malfoy_. She was tired and frustrated, and she didn't want to dwell on the implications of her dream, so she threw the covers off herself and curled back up in bed hoping to get back to sleep...somehow.

* * *

><p>Draco knew that Martin had grown obsessed with making sure that he would eat because Draco was getting weaker. The food had little effect, but he humored the poor elf. It was all he had left anyway. It seemed more and more likely by the passing day that he was going to die, locked in this Manor, in the form of a snake.<p>

It wasn't until he'd finished all the chicken the house-elf brought him for breakfast that he noticed Martin had placed the _Daily Prophet _on his tray as well. The picture on the front caught his eye immediately once he noticed it. He felt like vomiting up the food he'd just eaten.

There, on the front page was Hermione, wrapped in some git's arms, smiling at him like he was the best thing to ever happen to her. How long had it been? He checked the date at the top of the page. Only a week. She'd walked out on him a week ago. How was it that she'd moved on so quickly?

He could see the whole article from his place on the bed, but he didn't know if he _wanted_ to read it. The pain in his core was strong, and getting stronger by the minute. _Fuck it. I have to know._

**_A Gryffindor Love Story_**

_A hot romance is brewing this summer between War Heroine Hermione Granger and Star Keeper from Puddlemere United, Oliver Wood. The two have been seen snuggling and kissing all around London and Paris, and while they both declined comment, we can assure you, they are together._

_Both ex-Gryffindors, they attended Hogwarts together for three years before Oliver graduated and began playing for the United. As you know, Hermione was key in the fall of Voldemort a few years ago._

_Oliver isn't letting his strict practice schedule get in the way of enjoying time with his woman. Just last night they were found having a romantic dinner in one of the best Wizarding restaurants in Paris..._

He couldn't read more without moving the paper, and without Hermione's charm he couldn't move anything. He didn't want to read anymore anyway. He felt sick enough as it was.

He pulled away as if the paper had personally offended him and curled up tightly around himself in his bed. How could she do it? How could she be so unaffected? He screwed up. Okay. He knew it. He didn't explain himself well. But after everything, how could she move on so quickly?

He wanted to cry. For the first time since his mother died, he really wanted to have a good, honest cry. Unfortunately, his snake body wouldn't allow him such catharsis. So, he curled up and tried to focus on breathing through the searing pain.


	15. Love Hurts

**Love Hurts**

Hermione had finally rationalized her dream out good and proper. She'd dreamt about sex with Malfoy because she had been attracted to him and there was unfulfilled desire there, she couldn't deny that much. The second part was harder to rationalized, but she'd managed it, after trying for nearly 45-minutes in the shower.

She dreamed about being the mother of Draco's child because that stupid ferret had put the idea in her head. The cure to the curse, spell, whatever the fuck they were calling it, had seeped into her subconscious mind and she couldn't be blamed for dreaming about it. The fact that the dream made her feel a level of joy she hadn't felt before was pushed back to the recesses of her mind. She didn't have the time or energy to focus on the ramifications of _that._

She was already missing Malfoy. She hated herself for it, but there it was. She missed his company, his sarcasm, his dry humor. She missed the way she felt being around him. She felt like she'd been picked up in a tornado and then dropped in the middle of nowhere, confused about how she got there or what to do next.

_Yes, but tornados kill, Hermione_. They most certainly did, and Hermione had no intentions of risking what she could have by dwelling on what was not meant to be. She wasn't even sure that what happened between them was two-sided. He was looking for a cure, after all. Maybe he didn't feel anything. Maybe he just needed her and was willing to settle. The thought made her stomach turn in knots.

She didn't have time for this. She had to get to work. Oliver would be coming back to England for the weekend, and she wanted to get the bookshop monthly finances in order so that she could spend the weekend with him. Maybe this would be the weekend she felt the spark.

* * *

><p>The pain wasn't as strong as it had been. Three days passed since he read the <em>Prophet<em> article and the emotional pain numbed the physical. Martin was feeding him by hand now. It was utterly mortifying, but Draco couldn't bring himself to care. He knew his heart was breaking. But this was more than that.

He hadn't even realized how deeply Hermione had burrowed herself inside his soul, but when she was gone, it felt like he was missing something vital. _Fucking bitch._ He hated her for making him feel this way. He hated her for walking out and not listening. He hated her so much. Except he didn't hate her. Not one bit. He loved her. He knew it. He loved her and he couldn't help it.

How had this happened? How had a few short days with a girl he'd never given a second thought turn into this...this intense feeling that he _needed _her? His deteriorating health was proving that statement more true every day. He was dying, or at least if felt like it. Part of him knew that wasn't Hermione's fault. It had to be the curse. He wondered if he could speak with his father's portrait even without being able to actually talk.

He could always ask Martin to interpret for them. He did seem to know what Draco was feeling and thinking at all times. The moment the thought crossed his mind, Martin 'popped' into the room, eager to please his master. "Master, I shall take you to your father's study," he said, and Draco tried to move from the bed to follow the little elf, but his body wouldn't move correctly. His head still had full range of motion, but the rest of his snake body was sluggish, not reacting to his desires as it had before.

"I'll Apparate us there," Martin said, noting his master's alarm. Reaching his hand out, he placed it on the scales of Draco's back and they were instantly in Lucius' study, his haughty face staring down at them.

"I see you've yet to break the spell." Lucius said, stating the obvious. _Yeah, you bastard. But at least you don't have to worry about a Muggle-born sullying your precious bloodline_. Draco thought to himself. He noticed that Martin took it upon himself _not_ to translate his thoughts in that case. It mattered little because Lucius' portrait seemed to understand him quite well.

"One of the perks of being a magical portrait rather than alive is that I know exactly what you are thinking, Draco," Lucius sniffed. "I take it Miss Mudblood is gone."

_Don't call her that!_ Draco snapped.

"Oh really, Draco," Lucius began, his silky voice sending shivers down his son's scales, "she's just a girl. But this...reaction...does pose a problem. Have the effects taken over?"

_You mean the inability to move, eat, and think about anything but her? _Draco sulked internally. _Yeah, I'd say they have taken over. What is happening to me?_

For the first time, Lucius' manner seemed concerned. "Draco, you have to go to her."

_WHAT? Not even two weeks ago you were demanding I send her off. Now you want me to bring her back? _Draco really wished his father would just tell him what the hell was going on without all the Slytherin secrecy.

"Draco, listen to me. You've already fallen in love with her. As much as it pains me to admit such filth into my family, you'll die without her," Lucius said, alarm at the edge of his voice.

_What are you talking about? Why didn't you tell me this before? _Feeling like he was dying and knowing it was a certainty were two different things. The pain overwhelmed him for a moment before he tampered it down, knowing that giving into the pain would only make everything worse.

"I had no idea you had real feelings for her," Lucius said. "I assumed you'd bed her, get it out of your system, and move on. As long as you don't fall in love, the spell is merely an inconvenience. No other Malfoy has had this problem. We were all married. I thought you'd have more time..." Lucius was remorseful, Draco could tell, but he didn't care. This was absurd. Who ever heard of literally dying of a broken heart because your stupid ancestors were a bunch of homophobes?

_Yeah, well I don't._ Draco thought spitefully. _Martin, I'm ready to leave. Goodbye, Father. Looks as though I'll be joining you soon enough._

"Wait!" Lucius called, "Draco, don't let your pride be your downfall. Bring her here. Tell her how you feel!"

Draco said nothing, just ordered Martin to take him back to his room. When he was rested beneath the sheets again he rested his head on the pillow too emotionally and physically tired to even care that his life was over.

* * *

><p>"Oliver..." Hermione moaned, pulling on every inch of her desire to make herself feel what she wanted to. He'd come over to take her to dinner, but they'd ended up making out on the couch, as she desperately tried to feel the spark.<p>

His lips descended down her neck. A chill ran up her spine and she smiled against him. _That's more like it._

But it wasn't enough. As his hands moved up her sides, under the silk shirt she'd worn that evening, all she could think about was Draco's hands. It was hopeless. No matter how much she tried to ignore it, she couldn't.

Pushing Oliver away she couldn't help but damn Malfoy for ruining men for her completely. "Oliver," she started, and a look of resignation seemed to take over his features.

"You don't have to say it, I already know," he said, a sigh escaping him as he moved away from her on the couch.

"What?" she asked. Knew what?

"You aren't as into this as I am," he said, not bothering to tiptoe around the issue.

"Oliver, It's not..." she started, but he shook his head, stopping her with a sad smile.

"No, it's okay," he said. "You can't help how you feel."

"I really wanted it," Hermione said, feeling tears begin to sting her eyes. The emotional weight of her revelation was too much, and she felt her head swimming with regret that she couldn't just make herself feel something with Oliver.

Oliver's arm slipped around her shoulders and he pulled her into himself, stroking her hair with his other hand. "I know," he said. "And, that actually makes me feel better. You tried. No one could say you didn't, but I could feel it. You weren't all...there."

"I hate him," Hermione cried, giving herself over to the comfort of Oliver's arms as she let herself mourn the relationship that never got to be with Malfoy. It was too late now.

"No you don't," Oliver said. "Whoever he is, you don't hate him. That's the problem, isn't it?"

Hermione sniffled, wiping her eyes and nodded. It was the problem. She didn't hate Draco at all.

"Listen, why don't I just order us some food for dinner and you can tell me all about it," he offered.

Hermione considered it. "Don't you mind? I mean, you can't possibly want to hear about this."

"I want to be your friend," Oliver said. "Just because you don't want to be with me, doesn't mean I don't see any value in your friendship."

"You really are perfect," Hermione breathed.

"No I'm not. Luckily for you, you'll never have to deal with the horror of living with me," he laughed. Hermione chuckled with him before showing him where to find her take-out menus.

* * *

><p>"Draco Malfoy..." Oliver said after her lengthy story was done.<p>

Hermione smacked him on the arm. "Is that all you can say?"

"Well, I mean, of all people to lose a woman to," he said with a shrug.

"Men," Hermione muttered to himself. "Anyway, it really doesn't matter because I walked out on him, and he was just using me anyway."

"How do you know?" Oliver asked seriously.

"What do you mean, how do I know? It's Draco Malfoy, remember?" Hermione said, as if she was stating the obvious.

Oliver rolled his eyes at her. "And that would be logical reasoning if it were Weasley, or Harry, or me talking. But you know him. He let you in, and you know it."

Hermione wanted to demand that he stop making her look at this logically. Her emotions wouldn't let her admit that she might have been wrong about Draco. But her brain was telling her, Oliver was not far off the mark. "But love? Oliver, we spent five days together. It's not enough."

"Says who?" Oliver countered. "Is there a set amount of time people need to be with one another before they can feel love?"

"I...Well... but he even said that he had no other options but me," she said, looking at him as if she'd won the argument.

Oliver grinned and shook his head. "I'm not saying that he loves you. I'm not saying that he might not be self-serving. He's a Malfoy after all. I'm only saying, you never gave him a chance to explain."

That was true. She'd been so hurt, so certain she'd been wronged that she didn't even listen to him. But who could blame her? Draco Malfoy in love with her? Not possible. "It doesn't matter anyway," Hermione said. "We'd never work."

"If you say so," Oliver said with a resigned sigh. "Look, just think about it, okay?"

"Why do you care?" Hermione asked. Her voice held no bite, she really just wondered why Oliver would be defending a guy he didn't even like.

"Because you deserve to be happy. And if Malfoy makes you happy, he can't be all that bad, can he?" he said with a crooked grin.

Hermione smiled back. "Thanks, Oliver."

"Anytime."

* * *

><p>"I must go get Miss Granger." Martin said for the third time that day. It had been a few days since Draco found out he was actually dying and the fretting elf had been driving him bonkers.<p>

_No,_ he thought, _leave her alone. I order you not to contact her._

Martin sighed in frustration. His master was being the epitome of stubborn on the issue. If he didn't bring Miss Granger to the Manor, Martin didn't believe his Master would live out another day.

Draco had moved past wallowing to full-blown delusion. If he was going to die anyway, he could pretend things were different in his head. In his head, Hermione was already there, stroking his back and kissing him. Her flat stomach now rounded with their child. These were the things he wanted to be thinking when he finally left this world.

His brain wasn't functioning as well as it once had. He couldn't keep his thoughts together anymore. It was as if his deteriorating health was affecting his memory and sense of reality. He laughed to himself. What poetic justice. The Malfoy ancestors had really fucked up this time. To keep away the shame of a gay Malfoy, they'd ensured the line would die out with Draco.

He was so wrapped up in his fantasy he didn't even notice Martin leave the room. The small elf debated about what to do. He'd been ordered to leave Miss Granger alone, but doing so would kill his Master whom he loved very much. Finally, deciding what he must do, the elf squared his shoulders and Disapparated away. Destination: Hermione Granger.


	16. Reunion

**Reunion**

"I swear," Harry said with a dramatic sigh, "Ginny is more obsessed in this pregnancy than the last one."

"She's just excited," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Your Gringotts account will be fine. Just let her have some fun."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Harry assured his friend. "You know me. I'd be happy with a new broom every few years and Treacle Tart for dessert. She can spend whatever makes her happy. It's the other."

"What?" Hermione asked, cocking her eyebrow at her black-haired friend.

"She swears she did everything wrong in her first pregnancy and now she wants to eat nothing but organic food. Until the next week when she thinks she must be a vegetarian. That lasts until lunch when she scarfs down a ham sandwich at the Burrow." Harry chuckled. "She's bloody obsessed."

"Just be patient," Hermione said, "It's all worth it in the end." She cast a look at the sleeping James in his playpen. She and Harry were watching him while Ginny was shopping with her mother.

Harry noticed her longing look at his son and sighed. "You're only twenty-three," he pointed out. "Just because Ginny and I started a family right out of school, doesn't mean that's normal."

"I know," Hermione said, smiling at him. "Just hormones."

"Right," Harry said, changing the subject. He didn't want to think about the fact that Hermione might be picturing little Dracos in her future. Oliver was better for her, and he had no problems telling anyone who asked the same.

"Anyway, how's the shop?" he asked, knowing she could talk for hours about books and her bookshop.

"Great," she said, much less enthusiastic than usual when discussing her work. "I've finally gotten everything back in order after my little hiatus.

"You were gone three days," Harry laughed. "How far out of order could they have gotten?"

"Well," Hermione replied haughtily, "If you want things done right, you just have to do them yourself."

"You are going to put yourself in an early grave if you don't give over a bit of control, love," Harry said.

They'd had this conversation a dozen times, but she knew he meant well so she just shrugged at him. He knew she wouldn't likely change anyway.

"Anyway," Hermione said, "I liked having a little break, even if it was..." she stopped herself, not willing to revisit _that _time with _him_. It hurt too much. She shook her head. "I might even plan a vacation."

"Good," Harry said. "You need one."

"What, Harry Potter, is _that_ supposed to mean?" she asked, hands on her hips, even as she was sitting down. She tried to keep the smirk off her face but failed, and finally they both devolved into chuckles. However, their mirth was interrupted by a loud 'pop' directly in Harry's living room.

Hermione's heart leapt in her chest as she recognized the floppy eared elf in front of her. "Martin?"

"You know this elf?" Harry asked in a panic, aiming his wand at the tiny thing. Harry's reflexes were swift and Hermione knew if she didn't explain, the elf could be in serious danger.

"It's Draco's personal house elf," she said, not even bothering to call him Malfoy anymore. It was too hard to keep up with her shifting emotions. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she turned back to Martin who looked ill. "Martin, what is it? Are you okay? Is it Draco?" She couldn't help her initial reaction. If something happened to Draco, it would be her fault. She ran out on him, even knowing how vulnerable he was. A knot began to form in the pit of her stomach.

"Miss you must..." Martin was struggling, and she watched as he picked up the lamp on Harry's side table and hit himself over the head with it.

"Martin, no!" Hermione shouted, getting up and pulling the lamp from his grasp. "Don't punish yourself. Tell me, what's happened?" She was near panic and Harry had joined her, trying to calm the elf in hopes of figuring out what the buggering fuck was happening.

"Master Draco, miss. He's...he's..." Martin seemed to struggle with his words.

"What? What's happened to him?" Hermione pleaded.

"...dying." Martin finally bit out, but he looked as if he were in pain. He eyed the lamp in Hermione's hand like he'd lunge for it at any moment.

"Harry, I need to go there. Can I use your Floo?" Hermione asked, no thoughts of her fight with Draco in her head anymore. She had to make sure he was okay.

"No, miss. You must let me take you. Master has ordered the Floo closed."

It was worse than she thought. Hermione wondered if he'd seen anyone since she left weeks ago.

"I'm coming with you," Harry said, determination on his face.

"Harry, you can't. What about James?" Hermione reasoned. She didn't have time for this. Her stomach was heaving and the dread was settling over her. Martin had risked the wrath of his Master because Draco was dying. She couldn't let that happen. She didn't think she'd ever be able to recover. How awful would she feel if she let him die because of her own stubborn pride?

"One second. Don't go anywhere, Hermione," Harry said seriously. "You'll need my help."

Hermione didn't want to admit it, but he was right. If Draco was still in his snake form, she wasn't going to be able to do much explaining without Harry. Further, if they needed the might of the Ministry behind them to save him, Harry would do wonders. She nodded, but motioned for him to hurry and turned back to Martin.

"What's wrong with him? How long?" she asked, but as Martin eyed the lamp pitifully, she knew she wasn't going to get much out of the elf.

"It's okay," she said, "You don't have to tell me." He seemed relieved and impatient at the same time, and she wondered just how long Draco had been sick. Guilt ate away at her.

Harry was back within seconds just as he promised. "I took James to the Burrow. Let's go."

Hermione took one of Martin's hands and Harry took the other, and instantly they were apparated into Draco's bedroom at Malfoy Manor.

Draco was roused from his slumber by the sound of Martin Apparating into his room. _I'm not in the mood, _he thought, but was surprised when he heard Hermione's voice instead.

"Oh my," she said, and he realized he must have still been dreaming. "What happened to him?"

"He looks awful," a male voice said, and his head jerked up. When the fucking hell did he start dreaming about Harry-bleeding-Potter. He looked around, his eyes taking a while to focus, and spotted them both standing in his room staring at him.

_Martin, what have you done_? he moaned internally.

"I'm sorry, Master," Martin said miserably. "You need her. I had to bring her. I'll iron my hands, now."

"No!" Hermione shouted. "Draco, please. Don't let him punish himself. Please!"

Her sudden plea was enough to make him do what she said, even if he hadn't planned to stop the elf already._ Martin, that will not be necessary. _He was mad at the elf, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He'd be gone soon enough anyway. Potter was an annoyance, but at least he could facilitate a conversation with Hermione, no matter how much he was dreading it. It hurt that it had taken a plea from his elf to get her to come back and listen to him.

Harry and Hermione looked at him critically, and he felt uncomfortable. As Martin 'popped' out of the room, Potter took it upon himself to start the conversation. "So, your elf says you are dying."

_So much for a build up. _Draco's voice was rough and cracked, even in snake from, but he was still able to speak. "I do not know that for sure," he lied.

"What's he saying?" Hermione asked desperately, her eyes never leaving Draco's.

Draco thought it was too much to hope she cared, but she looked like she was on the verge of tears, and the thought that his health mattered so much to her, even after the way they left it, made his heart soar. But she was lost to him. He'd fucked it up, and the last thing he wanted was her pity.

"He says he doesn't know if he's dying," Harry translated dutifully.

"What happened, Draco?" Hermione asked, her voice cracking slightly as she moved toward the bed. She knelt beside it, reaching out to touch him and as he felt her warm fingers against him knew felt relief seeping into him. _Merlin he needed her._

Hermione could tell he was ill. He looked almost grey and translucent. His once supple snake body was thin and frail. She felt tears pricking her eyes and but swallowed hard, trying to keep them back.

He said something to Harry and she would have noticed a strange expression on her friend's face had she moved her eyes from Draco. But she stared at him, willing his body to change back.

"He said it's the spell. There's a bit of a time limit on it and it's running out," Harry translated.

"But Lucius never said that. Why wouldn't he have mentioned a time limit? It doesn't make any sense," Hermione said skeptically. "Draco, tell me the truth!"

He avoided her eyes but said nothing and she looked at Harry who just shrugged at her. "Damn it, Malfoy!" she seethed. "Tell me what's going on! After everything, you owe me the truth. If there is something that can fix this, I have to know!"

Draco turned away from her. He didn't want her to do anything out of pity or guilt, and he knew that was what she was feeling. "Just go, Hermione," he said sadly.

"He said to just go," Harry said, but he knew Hermione well enough to know that wasn't even an option.

"No," she said, her voice like steel. "I'm going to sit right here until you take your head out of your ass and tell me what the hell is going on." She sat next to him on the bed, kicked up her feet, and crossed her arms, clearly settling in for the long haul. "You might as well get comfortable, Harry, because we aren't going anywhere." She jutted out her chin stubbornly and stared Draco down, willing him to test her.

"What do you want?" he shouted in Parseltongue. "I'm dying because I was stupid enough to fall in love with you, and you left before I could even tell you? Is that what you want?"

Harry looked a little green around the gills, "Hermione..."

"What did he say?" she demanded.

"I don't think I should..." Harry started.

"Tell me what he said, Harry," Hermione said, gritting her teeth. She didn't want to hurt her best friend, but she would if she had to. An entirely new level of possessiveness was washing over her where Draco was concerned and she wasn't sure she wouldn't kill for him at the moment. Or kill him. One or the other.

"I think he should tell you," Harry said, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Well, he can't tell me, can he?" Hermione shouted, her battle with tears now totally lost. "He's being a stubborn ass, and I can't understand him, and I just have to know he's okay."

"I love him, Harry. I..." Her eyes went wide and she turned around to look at Draco whose eyes were looking directly into hers. The intense look he was giving her was the most emotion she'd seen in his snake face since they'd arrived.

"There," she said with a pout. "Are you happy? I love you, you stupid, git. So, just get over yourself and tell me how to help you."

Draco felt his world turn upside down as he looked at her. She loved him. The weakness that had settled over him since nearly the moment she left began to dissipate slightly until he felt the familiar tingle of change washing over him. His eyes never left her as he shifted into his human form under her gaze, and his breath was labored as he tried to remember how to use his body.

"Hermione..." he breathed, his voice raspy and cracked with disuse. He wrapped his comforter around his body and moved to get out of bed, but he was still weak. He couldn't even bear part of his weight.

"Don't you get out of that bed," Hermione chastised, but the relief on her features showed him that she wasn't angry with him at all anymore.

"Hermione, maybe I should leave..." Harry said awkwardly.

"Umm," Hermione couldn't decide whether she wanted him to stay or go. "Okay," she finally said.

"Keep me posted," Harry said. "And when Malfoy's set to rights, I expect you to tell me what in Merlin's fuck is actually going on here."

"I promise," Hermione said.

"And don't forget, Oliver is a nice guy. He deserves the truth," Harry went on. Hermione felt Draco tense and huffed at Harry.

"I'm already ahead of you," she bit out, shooing him away. "Now, go." Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding and leaving the room. She wondered, momentarily, if he'd ever find the Floo, but figured Martin would show him out if need be.

"Speaking of _Oliver_," Draco nearly growled. Hermione just rolled her eyes. Well, he was well enough to be pouting like a child, it seemed.

"Oliver and I broke up. Seems I wasn't as into him as he was me," Hermione said helping Draco sit up. "Have you eaten recently?"

"No," Draco said, "but stop changing the subject. It didn't look like you weren't into him on the front of the _Daily Prophet_," he huffed.

"Martin!" Hermione called, hoping he'd answer to her. When he appeared in the bedroom, he smiled seeing his Master had returned to his human form. "I showed Mister Potter out."

"Thank you," Hermione said. "Can you please bring us up some dinner?"

"Certainly," the elf answered, Disapparating instantly.

"Now, I know I owe you an apology and an explanation," Hermione said, "if you are willing to listen." Draco said nothing so she continued.

"When you told me about the cure, I freaked out. There was no way you could have felt the way about me that I felt about you. I thought you were using me because you had no other option. You even said..." Hermione was cut off when Draco placed his hand over hers and stopped her.

"I know what I said," he told her seriously. "I was tongue tied. I didn't say what I meant."

"I overreacted," Hermione said, but he stopped her again.

"Let me just say this before you say anything else. I'm so in love with you, Hermione. I don't know how it happened or why, and I don't care. I should have told you that day, but I didn't know it at the time..."

"Oh, Draco," she cried, throwing her arms around him and hugging him close. "I'm sorry I didn't stay and listen. I'm sorry I tried to replace you. It didn't work anyway. Oliver's great, but he wasn't you." She couldn't believe how stupid she'd been.

"If I bring up the cure, are you going to freak out again?" Draco asked seriously, pulling back to look her in the eyes.

"No," Hermione said. "And you don't even have to ask. When I saw you so close to death, I made my choice. I'll do whatever you need me to, if you still want me to."

"No," Draco said. "I don't want you to rush this because I need you to."

"But, Draco, you were dying. I know you were. If I don't do this, it will kill you." Hermione couldn't even imagine a fate worse than watching him die.

"And I can't make you do this just to save my life," Draco countered. "It's forever."

"I know that," Hermione said. "Do you think I'd do this if I didn't want to?"

"Yes," Draco said with a smirk.

"Well, I wouldn't. I'd do anything to find another way. I can commit to you, right now, Draco Malfoy, that I will have your children." Hermione said.

"You know it has to be in writing," he said breathlessly.

"Good thing I brought a quill with me, then." She replied matter-of-factly.

* * *

><p>Hermione had left, only for a moment, to set things in order with the bookshop for the rest of the week. While she was gone, Martin had cleaned and clothed his Master. Draco was still very weak and he assumed that, even though Hermione had pledged herself to the task of bearing his children - a thought that sent shivers down his spine - he wouldn't feel whole again until they made the potion.<p>

His head rested against his headboard as he flipped through the Malfoy journals, stopping at the potion instructions and reading them over. It was a simple potion but it would take two days to brew. He wanted to get on with his life now that he had the woman he loved, but he learned, after weeks as a snake without her, to be patient. She was with him and that was all that mattered.

"Draco," he heard her voice before he saw her, walking though the door of his bedroom. "I'm all yours for the next two weeks."

"You mean you've delegated?" He asked with a smirk. He couldn't remember how many times he'd caught her freaking out over her bookshop in the few days they'd looked for the cure to his ailment.

"Shush it, you," Hermione said, tartly. She didn't want to admit that delegating was exactly what she was doing, and the thought made her a bit queasy. But the thought of spending so much time away from Draco while he was recovering was worse, so she chose to give over a little control to her staff. That was, after she'd gone over every detail of the business with them three times first. By the end, they were ready to wring her neck, but she felt better.

Draco was far more important at the moment. She still felt immense guilt about leaving him to die. The fact that she hadn't know he loved her or that that love was what was killing him since she'd shut him out of her life didn't register. She had almost killed the man she loved. She didn't know if she'd ever get over that.

"Now, what's next?" she said, sitting next to him, trying to push those thoughts from her mind. "I want to get you on your feet as soon as possible."

Draco flipped the diary at her and her eyes flitted over the potion instructions. "Let's get to it then. No time to waste."

Draco grinned up at her and pulled her back down next to him before she could hurry off to her next task. "No," he said, pulling her close.

"What do you mean, no?" Hermione asked. "We have to get this potion made. I'm not going to let this Merlin-be-damned curse kill you."

"Kiss me first," Draco breathed against her skin. She wanted to protest, explaining that they could kiss all they wanted when he was better, but she couldn't help herself. She'd missed his lips on hers.

Leaning down, she cupped his cheek and pulled his face toward hers, giving him a soft chaste kiss. It was over almost as soon as it started and Hermione giggled at the adorable pout on Draco's lips. "There's more where that came from, but not until we finish preparing this potion."

"Tease," Draco pouted. Hermione just laughed.

"I'll be back," she said. She didn't let him know how her heart was still pounding with relief that he was alive, and anticipation for what lay ahead of them when he was truly healed.


	17. Mischief Managed

**Mischief Managed**

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, casting a worried glance at Draco as she finished stirring the base of the potion. She was annoyed at how long it had to simmer before she could finish it. He was looking weak and she wanted to fix him as soon as possible.

"Fine," he said, though his voice was cracked. "I think I'll feel better if you come closer."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "As I understand it, I only have to love you in return to put you out of grave danger. The proximity of my person to you has no affect."

"Know-it-all," Draco drawled, a slight grin on his face. He was just happy she was with him. He'd never grow tired of opening his eyes and seeing her there.

"I'm almost done, anyway," Hermione said, making two more calculated stirs. "Done," she smiled. She wiped her hands on her potions apron and turned back to Draco as she took it off.

"Good, now come over here," Draco beckoned, his voice a little stronger.

"Nope. First, you eat dinner," Hermione said, hands on her hips. Martin delivered the food only seconds after she spoke.

"Does my elf answer to me or you?" Draco grumbled. "How about you come here _and_ I eat?"

Hermione sighed, but agreed; climbing into bed next to Draco and helping him sit up to eat. "You know, when you are all better there will be no more eating in bed. You'll get ants."

"One," Draco said, shoveling his stew into his mouth and swallowing before he continued, "Malfoy Manor has never once had an ant," he sniffed, looking at her imperiously. "And two, are you my girlfriend or are you my mother?"

Hermione's expression turned serious for a moment before she smiled again, "Girlfriend?"

"Well, you just vowed, on paper, to bear my children. Did you think I wasn't going to give you _some_ title?" Draco asked seriously.

"Well...yes, but...I mean, we hadn't talked about it. I..." Hermione stumbled over her words. She'd been so worried about Draco that the thought of what would follow never crossed her mind. Now, as she thought about it, she'd made a very big commitment to him and didn't know how it would work. Children were more commitment than even marriage.

"Hermione, don't hurt yourself," Draco chuckled weakly. "I love you. I know we have a lot of things to work out, but I love you and I want to be with you. Only you. I had Martin fetch this, when you were gathering potions ingredients." He reached over to his nightstand and handed her a velvet box. "I'm planning to marry you. It's up to you if that's what you want."

"_That's_ your proposal?" Hermione screeched, looking at him like he had twelve heads.

_Oh, here we go again_, Draco thought realizing he's mucked it up again. "Stop," he said, "It's not like that. I don't want to marry you because I have no other choice or because it's the 'right' thing to do. But I've been sitting in this bed for over two weeks thinking about how much I need you in my life. All I'm saying is that, if you need more time to think about it, I understand."

Hermione was slightly mollified by this. It was true. She had spent the last few weeks trying to avoid her feelings for Draco. So much so, she was a bit confused about them. She knew she was in love with him. That much has been made clear. But was it enough.

"Okay," she said finally. "I'll think about it."

"Good," Draco replied, sighing with relief. "So, now can we please skip over all of that awkward nonsense and just move on?" Hermione would have been pissed if it was any other guy, but she knew exactly what Draco meant. They connected on a deeper level and she knew it. Should problems arise, they'd deal with them, but until then it was useless worry about them.

"Okay," Hermione said, kissing him on the cheek. "One thing I will insist upon, though..." she smirked evilly at him.

"What?" Draco asked with a sigh. This woman was demanding.

"You must have a proper bath. I'll call Martin." She was out of the bed before he knew what happened.

"What about a sponge bath?" Draco asked with a pout. "I thought you were nursing me back to health."

"I am," Hermione said, "but I told you, no sex until you are one-hundred percent."

"Who said anything about sex? I'm talking about a simple, clinical sponge bath," Draco said, his face innocent, but his eyes told a different story.

Hermione chuckled. "I know you, Draco Malfoy. It wouldn't stay 'clinical' for long."

"You only say that because you can't resist me," he boasted.

Hermione just laughed. She felt lighter just being with him.

* * *

><p>Hermione dressed in long pajamas to ward off her own hormones that night. Draco was still weak and she wanted to wait to progress their relationship until they could both enjoy it, but that didn't mean she didn't want him. After months without sex, and weeks of wanting him, she was at the edge of her patience.<p>

"My lips aren't broken," Draco whispered as he rolled over to pull her into his arms in the dark of his room.

She giggled, letting herself melt into his slight frame. She really would need to work on fattening him up again.

Her lips ghosted over his and he arched forward, capturing them in his own. Both moaned at the contact and realizing that for the first time, this kiss was deliberate. It wasn't just an impulse in the height of passion, but a reflection of mutual desire.

His tongue flicked out and tangled with hers and Hermione let her leg wrap around his waist, pulling herself flush against his hard body. "I love you," he moaned between kisses.

"Mmmm, I love you too," Hermione gasped, letting her fingers card through Draco's silky hair.

"I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come back," Draco said, pulling away to look at her.

"I shouldn't have left like that," Hermione said, looking down but not letting go of him.

"Promise me you'll talk to me before leaving again," Draco said, his voice serious in the darkness.

"I'm not going anywhere," Hermione promised. It was enough for him and he crashed his lips back into hers, trying to devour her completely. He felt whole and complete with her there. He didn't even know he'd been missing something until she was wrenched out of his life so violently. Now that he had her back, he would fight to keep her.

His hands moved up her sides, dying to feel the silky skin beneath her shirt, but she pulled back suddenly. "Please," she said, "I want to wait until after the potion."

"Why?" he breathed.

"I want you healed. It's my fault you are like this. I just need you to be healed first," Hermione said, her voice cracked and desperate.

Draco sighed. He understood her reasoning, even if he did want to be buried inside her immediately. There was one point he really had to take issue with though. "This is not your fault, Hermione."

"Of course it is," Hermione scoffed. "I ran out of here because of my own insecurities. If Martin hadn't..." She shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if Martin hadn't coaxed her to coming back to the Manor.

"But he did. Look, I don't want to look back. Let's just go forward," Draco pled.

"Fine, but I still think..."

He chuckled and cut her off. "My dear, you wouldn't be you if you _weren't_ thinking."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him even if he couldn't see it in the darnkess, but let the matter drop. She'd just have to make it up to him over time. She'd never forget how close she came to losing him.

* * *

><p>Draco was already feeling antsy and Hermione had only been gone half an hour. Since he was still in human form, he assumed it meant she was coming back. He knew he should trust her. She loved him. The past was in the past. After all that had happened, he didn't want to be away from her for even a second.<p>

But there he was, watching the potion simmer as she ran a few errands. He could understand it. She couldn't drop everything in her life because he needed her. The bookshop needed to be seen to. Potter would need an explanation. Although, Draco thought that the Boy Wonder had to be brain-dead if he hadn't figured out what happened by now.

Either way, Draco couldn't tie Hermione to him every second of the day. He would just have to find a way to pass the time until she got back. He cracked open one of the Muggle books she'd left behind and tried to focus.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure, Hermione? I mean, it's <em>Malfoy<em>," Harry said, reiterating the same tired argument he'd been using for the last fifteen minutes. Hermione was reaching the end of her patience.

"I don't care, Harry. You don't understand." She sighed in frustration. "When have I ever done anything without thinking it through?"

"Never," Harry conceded.

"And that's all we need to know, I assure you," Ginny said, looking pointedly at her husband. "If you are happy, we are happy. Right dear?"

"Yes," Harry sighed. "But I just don't understand."

"Of course you don't," Hermione said. "It's not something I can explain to you. But I love him. And I can assure you he loves me too."

"I know he does," Harry admitted with a sigh. "He said as much. I couldn't believe it."

"He what?" Hermione screeched.

"Well, in snake form. He told me he loved you," Harry admitted.

"The Malfoy we knew wouldn't have said that to anyone, Harry," Ginny pointed out. "He has to have changed."

"He has," Hermione readily agreed. "And I've agreed to be with him. I want him. But I want you two on my side. This is going to be hard enough to explain to people anyway."

"You know I'm on your side," Ginny said, looking at her husband.

"I'm always on your side, Hermione. But if he hurts you..." His voice became ice cold.

"Then I give you permission to kick his ass." Hermione giggled. Her laughter was interrupted by a loud banging on the door.

"Expecting someone?" Hermione asked, cocking an eyebrow at the couple. Usually people entered via the Floo, and rarely with such a rude banging.

"No..." Ginny said, her brow furrowing. Harry looked confused and on guard as he made his way to the door, wand in hand.

"Who is it?" he called. As an Auror, he knew one could never be too cautious, and with his family and best friend in the house, he wasn't taking any chances.

"Oi, it's me. Let me in!" Ron Weasley's angry voice yelled from the other side of the door. Hermione, Harry, and Ginny let out a collective sigh. Harry's eyes met Hermione's and she just nodded. It wasn't likely that she could ignore the git forever.

Ginny gave her a look of support as Harry wrenched open the door. Ron didn't even wait to be invited in before he barged through the door, already in the middle of a tirade. "What the bloody hell? I've been trying to get into the Floo for a half hour!"

"We shut it off because Hermione was here," Ginny said, as if she were talking to a five-year-old. Ron's eyes widened and he looked at Hermione, obviously just noticing her. She couldn't help it. She rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration. Was it always going to be like this? They'd been best friends at one time. They were lovers once. Did he have to treat her like vermin?

"What is _she_ doing here?" Ron demanded.

"I have a name, and I'm right in front of you," Hermione said, standing up. "I was just leaving anyway." It made her sad to think she and Ron could never be in the same room together.

"Yeah, you'd better," Ron urged. "Who's it off to now, eh? Oliver? Or is it Malfoy? Just how many men are you fucking now?" Ron growled, and Hermione had to control the urge to punch him in the face. Ginny got to him first.

"Ronald, lower your voice. James is upstairs!" she snapped, "And best you learn to treat my guests with respect or you won't be invited back."

Hermione wanted to point out that he hadn't been invited in the first place, but she kept her mouth shut. This seemed to be a family matter now. Ron was nothing to her - not even friend.

"I'm going to go," she said, moving toward the Floo. When Ron moved to intercept her, she pushed him aside. "You know what happened last time you followed me through the Floo," she said, staring daggers into him. "I have a feeling you don't want a repeat."

"Hermione, come on..." he said, his face and tone softening. She felt a little bad for him. Obviously she'd hurt him when she broke things off, but she couldn't pretend she loved him.

"I'm willing to talk any time you are ready," she said, "but I won't be disrespected."

He opened his mouth to say something else but she ignored him, Flooing to Malfoy Manor without a backward glance.

Maybe one day she and Ron could be friends, but his head was too far up his arse for her to bother trying. Besides, she didn't appreciate the mean things he'd said to her when they parted or in the few times they'd been thrown together since. It would take a while before she forgave him.

Sighing with relief, she smiled to herself as she padded up the stairs toward Draco's room. By this time tomorrow, he'd be good as new and they could start their lives together.

"Draco..." she sing-songed as she pushed the door of his room open. Her smile brightened as his eyes lit up at her arrival.

"Miss me?" she asked.

"Of course," Draco said. "The potion is simmering nicely, and Martin's given me my supper. I've been a good little boy."

"Well," Hermione said, crawling up the end of the bed, "that's good to hear. Perhaps you deserve a reward."

"Oh, I think I do..." Draco purred, sitting up and pulling her down on top of him. When he grunted in pain, she quickly pulled away.

"Not until you are better," she looked down at him with a stern expression. "Besides, I need a shower."

"You are no fun," Draco pouted. "A little pain is worth the reward."

Hermione just rolled her eyes and pecked him on the lips.

* * *

><p>"It's time," Hermione said, smiling over the top of the cauldron in the center of Draco's bedroom. It was finally the light green color necessary before adding her blood to it. "Grab that knife," she said pointing to the end table by his side, "and come here."<p>

Draco sighed with relief. He'd only been out of bed for his bath, and even then, he barely got to stretch his legs. Between Hermione and Martin, he was beginning to think he'd never walk again.

Slowly, he slid his legs out from under the duvet and planted his feet on the ground. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself on his hands, ready to bear his weight. It was shaky, but successful. He groaned under the strain of pushing his weak body more than it had been pushed in weeks.

"Oh, let me help you," Hermione said, not realizing how weak he truly was.

"No," he said, smiling weakly. "I can do it." Hermione knew what it was like to be treated like an invalid, so she just nodded her head and watched him pick up the knife and make his way to her.

"Here," he said, smiling brightly when he finally reached the table where she'd set up the potion's ingredients.

"Thanks," Hermione cooed softly, kissing him on the cheek as he held himself up by his arms at the table. "Let's get this over with."

Draco just nodded.

Picking up the blade, Hermione dragged it across the palm of her hand and let the blood drip into the cauldron. The concoction immediately turned a deep purple color. "Here, let me," Draco said, using his wand to heal the cut on her hand. She smiled up at him and set down the knife.

He looked at her blood dripping from the silver blade and wondered how he ever believed in any rubbish about blood superiority. Hermione was the most amazing person he'd ever known. She was brilliant, beautiful, and a very powerful witch. He was proud to have her in his life. He also found it ironic that the only way to save the Malfoy line was blood of a Muggle-born. His ancestors were idiots.

Hermione quickly ladled up a cup of the potion, wanting Draco to imbibe it as soon as possible, and offered it to him. "Maybe you should sit down, in case..." but before she could even finish her sentence Draco had downed the potion in one shot.

"Draco! We don't know the effects..."

He couldn't hear anymore as his ears buzzed and he felt the potion seeping into every part of his body. It was tingling, not unlike the kind of feeling when he changed to and from his snake form, and for one moment he worried he was going to end up a snake on the floor again, but the tingling intensified before dissipating completely. As it left, he felt like a new man. Strong, healthy, and better than ever before.

Hermione was still rambling on about something, but he didn't care. Not anymore. He was cured, healed, and there was only one thing he wanted. Reaching out to her, he shocked her into silence when he pulled her into his arms and planted his lips directly over hers.

"Mmm," Hermione mumbled, not really remembering what she'd been saying in the first place. Her hands fisted into Draco's shirt as she pulled him closer, letting his strong arms wrap all the way around her.

He pulled back to catch his breath and grinned up at her stunned and aroused expression. "Looks like all I needed was a little 'Mudblood' in me..." he said wagging his eyebrows.

Hermione chuckled and rolled her eyes, knowing he was joking. "Let me check you over."

"I'm fine." Draco assured her, picking her up in his arms and twirling her around for good measure. "I feel better than ever."

Hermione giggled and swatted at his arms until he let her down. "Maybe I should leave and see if you change back into a snake."

Draco's arms tightened and he growled, "Don't you dare!"

"Kidding," she sing-songed,leaning forward to kiss him again. Now that he was good as new, she couldn't help herself.

The kiss quickly escalated as Draco pushed Hermione up against the potions table and moved his hands up her sides under her shirt. Hermione felt her head spinning and she felt like she was going to explode at the slightest touch. She'd spent so much time worrying about the potion that she was able to push thoughts of Draco touching her out of her mind, but now that he was well and willing, she couldn't help but moan and writhe against him.

"Yes..." she hissed as he mouth moved off of hers and down her throat. She felt herself growing wet from the slightest touch and wondered how she'd ever denied him before.

"Maybe I should take you on a date first," Draco mumbled against her skin.

"What?" she panted. _What the fuck is he talking about?_

"Dinner," Draco said, pulling back slightly. "It's only proper I take you to dinner first."

Hermione stared at him bug-eyed for a moment. "Sod dinner," she said. "I want you."

Draco's cock twitched at her confession and he trapped her lips in his again. If she wanted to skip dinner and go straight to dessert, that was just fine with him. He picked her up and placed her on the edge of the table, his hand lingering on her thighs as his lips devoured her. He couldn't get enough. He wanted to swallow her whole and feel her under his skin.

He'd never felt this kind of passion and need before. If he'd had any doubts about the agreement between them, they were gone the moment he felt her pliant body beneath his fingers. He could spend his whole life touching her. All the other women and one-night stands paled in comparison to the goddess before him.

"I want you too," he breathed against her skin and she took the opportunity to pull his shirt over his head. She smiled as she noticed that the potion returned, not only his strength, but his old physique. It was as if he'd never been ill. His skin glowed with health and life, and his muscles were taught under the soft flesh.

She was fumbling with the drawstring on his pants, and growing more frustrated by the second. She'd waited long enough. It was her own stupidity and insecurity that had kept her from him in the first place, but now that they were together, she didn't want to waste a moment. Draco had already gotten her tee shirt off and was kissing a path down her chest.

"Oh yes..." she purred against him as he pulled down the cups of her bra, letting his tongue tease her puckered nipples. Her hands gripped his hair tightly in her fingers as she held him against her, wanting more but not daring let him go.

Draco felt himself flying as he breathed in her intoxicating scent. She was so turned on and it only made him harder. He couldn't believe he had this affect on her, but he silently vowed to make sure he always made her feel this way.

Her hips were moving back and forth against him, looking for some sort of relief and he wanted, desperately, to give it to her. "Here," he said, breaking away from her finally. He knew that to get what he wanted he'd have to get their clothes off.

She whimpered at the lost of contact, but followed his silent instructions, lifting her hips off the table to let him remove the jeans she'd worn that day. The knickers and bra quickly followed, and he knew that he should be drawing this out more but he couldn't help himself. He had to have her. Now.

His trousers came off next, and he watched as her eyes darkened when he stood naked in front of her. She was gorgeous, sexy, hot; a million adjectives that made his cock hard and his heart race.

"Come," she said, beckoning him to her with her finger. He almost came on the spot.

Hermione, for her part, was having difficulty controlling herself. She'd wanted this to be a romantic 'coming together' of two souls - an expression of the love and passion they felt for one another. However, as he came toward her, his hard cock standing proud before her, brushing against the tender skin of her thigh, all she could think about was how much she wanted him to possess her. Now.

She pulled his body against hers and moaned when she felt his wet tip nudge at her opening. His hands were on her hips and he looked up at her, seemingly looking for consent. Her mind was a blur but she managed to beg him, "Please..."

He thrust forward and filled her, making her head fall back and her eyes snap shut. "Draco..." she breathed, feeling tingles all over her body. _Oh yes, this is worth the wait._ Her breath was coming out in pants before he even moved and she wiggled her hips hoping he'd take the hint and start to thrust. She couldn't take much more.

"Merlin, Hermione..." Draco wheezed. She was almost too tight, too wet. It was perfect and it was too much, but so right.

"Draco, please. I need it..." her speech was slurred and he looked up to see her eyes almost black with lust. "Fuck me, please." The way she begged made him surge forward, and then back, and forward again. _Merlin's balls this is what heaven must be like._

He gripped her hips tighter and pumped in and out of her with more speed and grace. He was a man on a mission. He knew she was already close to coming. He could feel her delicate walls fluttering around him and he couldn't believe she could get any tighter. "Perfect," he muttered, moving his head down to take one of her nipples in his mouth.

"Harder," Hermione begged, meeting him thrust for thrust as she used one hand for leverage and the other to tangle in his messy hair. He bit down on her nipple and thrust into her fast and faster until...

"Oh yes!" Hermione cried. "I'm going to come," she warned before her voice turned into a delightfully erotic moan and her pussy clamped down around him. He fucked her through her orgasm, trying his best not to come yet. He buried his face in her neck and gave her a moments rest before plunging back in, over and over.

"Hermione..." he gasped, knowing he wouldn't last much longer but needing her to come again. The sweet torture of her wet heat tightening around him was addictive and he wondered how many times he could make her come in one go. That would be for another time though. For now, he needed release too much.

"Come, Draco. Please, come..." Her breath was hitching again and he knew she was on the brink.

Hermione couldn't believe it could feel like this. She'd had orgasms before, but never like this. Most were weak or self-induced. She didn't know a man could make her fall apart like this, and she was aching for him to do it all over again. Her fingers dug into his back as her quim quaked around his thick cock. His thrusts were becoming erratic and she knew he was close. She wanted to feel him come deep inside her, letting her own body milk him dry. She wanted to consume him totally.

"Oh fuck, Draco!" she cried out, feeling herself fall over the precipice. Her ears rang with the force of her orgasm and she was sure she'd pass out before it was over.

Draco groaned as her cunt hugged his cock and gripped her harder, fucking her into the table with hard fast thrusts until he erupted inside her, her name torn from his lips. He pulsed inside her as she milked every last drop of come from him, and he couldn't believe how strong the impact of his orgasm was.

"Wow," Hermione said, her breath still coming out in harsh pants. "I...I...wow."

"Basically," Draco drawled, still holding her to him like he was afraid she'd disappear at any moment.

"As amazing as that was," Hermione said, once she got her brain working, "Can we move this to the bed? My arse is numb."

Draco couldn't help it, he burst into laughter. Kissing her on the lips, he picked her up and carried her to the bed where he laid her down on his soft sheets. "Better?"

"Much," Hermione replied, contentedly. "Oh wait," she said, darting off the bed and over to her jeans on the floor. She quickly pulled out the velvet box Draco had given her two days before.

"What are you doing?" Draco chuckled, snuggling under the covers.

"This," Hermione said pulling out the beautiful ring that had been in his family for over a hundred years. She smiled at him and slipped it on her left ring finger.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked.

"Yes. I want to be with you. I don't care about marriage, but if you want that, I'm more than happy to commit to you," Hermione answered, coming back to bed and crawling in next to him.

"If I'd known that all I had to do was fuck your brains out to get you to agree, I'd have strapped you to the bed before now," Draco said with a wide grin. Hermione just rolled her eyes and slapped him on the arm.

"Just wait until we tell your father," she said.

"I can't wait," Draco replied, pulling her down next to him on the bed and attacking her lips with his own.


	18. Epilogue: Happily Ever After

**Epilogue: Happily Ever After**

As it happened, Lucius was not as much of a problem as Hermione had anticipated. Draco and Hermione were really anticipating a fight from the portrait, but he seemed to have begrudgingly accepted the fact that his precious bloodline was to be tainted forever.

"I assumed as much," he'd said, sniffing slightly and holding his nose in the air.

"I suppose if I _must_ have a Mud-" the warning look from Draco halted the word in his mouth and he amended, "_Muggle-born_ in the family I'm glad it is you," he told Hermione. She didn't know whether to laugh or stare at him like his head was on fire.

"Malfoy's always have the finest things. You are, after all, the finest..._Muggle-born_," Lucius explained.

"Thank you," Hermione replied..._I think._

Over time, with the prodding of Hermione, they spent more time with Lucius in his study. She knew he appreciated being kept abreast of their lives, even if he'd never admit it. And to her, it was sort of sad that he'd died before he'd ever gotten the chance to change himself. In the conversations she and Lucius' portrait shared over the years, she came to understand that, despite his faults, he loved his family.

That included the family she and Draco created. They'd married only a few months after the spell had been broken and Hermione found herself pregnant a month after that. It was all very fast, but it was inevitable and they were both happy. Lucius was over the moon.

When they told him they were having a son, Lucius asked if he could speak to Hermione alone. Hermione was again, shocked into silence when he apologized to her.

"I must admit, existing in a portrait affords me a great deal of time to think about my life. I've made many mistakes." Hermione didn't say anything. "I've seen a change in my son. He's happy now. Never have I seen him happy like this. And now...well, you are carrying the Malfoy heir."

"Sir, we are trying to undo the spell..." Hermione started, assuming she knew where he was going with this.

"That's not what I mean," Lucius interrupted her. "I can assure you, I'd be most pleased to discover that...spell...is long gone. But what I wish to say is, thank you. Thank you for saving my son and thank you for giving me a grandson, even if I'll only ever see him from this room."

Hermione was floored. She never thought, in one million years, she'd hear Lucius Malfoy thanking anyone, least of all her. "You're welcome," she said, knowing that dragging it out would only make him more uncomfortable. When she joined Draco in the sitting room, she looked a little dazed but she was smiling, so he didn't say anything.

Ron had been another matter entirely. His initial reaction to Draco and Hermione's announcement that they'd be married was to explode into a sputtering, incoherent rage what only ended when Ginny silenced him with her wand.

Draco had been inches from hexing his bollocks off when Ron accused Hermione of being a Death Eater whore, but Hermione gripped his wand hand so tight he worried she'd broken his wrist. After that, the couple avoided Ron at all costs. Hermione didn't want to be hurt again and Draco didn't want to be thrown in Azkaban for killing one of the 'Golden Trio'.

It wasn't until three months after their first son was born that Ron came for a visit at Malfoy Manor ready to chow down on a crow buffet. He apologized profusely for his behavior and explained that he'd been jealous and angry. He never considered a life without Hermione as his wife and when she dumped him, he thought his life was over. He'd treated her horribly as a way to deal with his own anger and sadness.

Hermione listened patiently to his heartfelt apology and pulled him into a hug, forgiving him instantly. It took Draco longer to come around, and while they still were not the best of friends, he tried to remain civil for Hermione's sake. Besides, the kids adored Ron.

Harry and Ginny we both happy for Hermione and, after some time, Harry and Draco even became very good friends. They both had an interest in Quidditch and found themselves begrudgingly admitting the other wasn't so bad.

Hermione finally felt like things were coming together as she wanted them to. She had her bookshop, Draco was heavily invested in philanthropic work, and they were a family. After their first son, Scorpius Lucius Malfoy was born, Hermione insisted on naming the second one. Two years later their son, Sirius Draconis Malfoy was born.

While Scorpius looked exactly like his father, only inheriting his mother's kind heart, and tiny little nose, Sirius had wild brown curly hair and his father's grey eyes. He also had a penchant for troublemaking like his namesake. Scorpius was more sensitive, quiet, and reserved than his brother.

Hermione and Draco loved them both and struggled with trying not to spoil them rotten. Draco had a tendency to do so more than Hermione, but neither boy could have been so adored by their father as Astra Narcissa Malfoy, their last child and only daughter.

She was born three years after Sirius and was the apple of her father's eye. Her long curly blond hair looked angelic against her slightly tanned skin, and she bore her mother's heart shaped face and her father's cool eyes. She was beautiful and Draco vowed never to let any boy touch her.

All three attended Hogwarts and were sorted into Slytherin House. Hermione wasn't at all disappointed at losing her children to the snakes of the dungeon. Things had changed a great deal since she and Draco had been there. Slytherin was no longer a house of only purebloods and selected half-bloods. The war had not erased all racism from society, but the younger generation was accepting, and Slytherin was once again a Noble house of ambitious and cunning children.

Scorpius had graduated as Head Boy and went on to work as a curse breaker for Gringotts. Hermione and Draco were just happy he'd chosen to work locally so they could see him often.

Sirius teamed up with the Ron's first born, Hugo, to open a shop in Diagon Alley that specialized in prank gifts for adults. When Hermione and Draco had told Lucius, the portrait nearly fell off the wall. But they were proud of his ambition and could care less what he sold as long as it was legal and he was happy.

Astra, despite her father's protests, became an Auror directly after school and worked her way to the top of her field where she specialized in magical-Muggle relations within the Auror department. Her parents were both proud of her, though Draco worried she worked too hard. She just rolled her eyes and kissed her father on the cheek, promising him she was just fine.

When she came home to tell her parents that she and Albus, the Potter's youngest son, were to be married, Draco thought he'd have a heart attack. He'd known they saw a lot of each other and worked together, but he never let himself believe that anything but innocent friendship was going on between the two. Albus was nearly five years older than Astra and he refused to picture them together. He was Potter's spawn, after all.

Hermione took up for her stunned husband and congratulated her daughter, excitedly discussing wedding plans until Draco could come to terms with the thought of Potter's son defiling his daughter.

Everything seemed to be like a fairy tale. Hermione and Draco were happy, their children were happy, and the world seemed like such a better place than they remembered growing up. But the carefree happiness was not destined to last when Scorpius came home one day to give his parents some news.

He was thirty years old and Hermione was sure she knew was coming home to tell them he'd decided to get married and settle down. Sirius might have decided to be a life-long bachelor, but Scorpius was not the type.

"Mum, Dad," he started, rubbing his palms against the Muggle jeans he was wearing. "I've got something to tell you."

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, starting to worry.

"Yes," Scorpius said, a weak smile on his lips. "This is very hard. I don't want to disappoint you."

"Love, you could never disappoint us," Hermione assured, starting to get nervous as well.

"I have to tell you. I tried to be different. I tried to be normal but...I'm gay, and I can't help it. I'm in love with a man and we want to move in together. I don't want you to be disgusted or...well, I know we never talked about this, and I..." Scorpius began to ramble his voice cracking as he tried to explain to his parents his desires.

"Honey," Hermione broke in, tears in her eyes, "You are normal. There is nothing wrong with being gay, and if you thought we would disapprove, then I'm sorry we didn't make it more clear to you that we love you no matter what."

"Oh," Scorpius responded lamely, his breath evening out.

"You're mother's right," Draco said, clapping his son on the back. "We love you, period. Being gay has no bearing on it." He looked to his wife who seemed to be thinking the same thing he was. With a sigh, he turned back to Scorpius.

"There is one thing we must talk about, though." Over the next hour, Hermione and Draco explained to their son about the Malfoy curse and how it brought them together. They told him how they'd looked for a loophole some time ago but never could find one and were still trying to find a way to save him from the same fate.

Hermione cried as she promised her son that she'd find a way to make sure he could be with whoever he wanted to be. Draco held her close and vowed to do the same before sending their son off to be with his lover.

It took five years and a considerable amount of capital, but they were finally able to break the curse. After they knew Scorpius would not be marrying a woman, ever, they doubled their efforts and were able to find an old sorceress who, after a payment of ten million Galleons, removed the spell entirely. Hermione was suspicious, but Draco said he knew it had been removed, that he could feel it, so she trusted him.

By that time, Scorpius had married his husband, a dashing Quidditch star named Armand from Italy. Draco enjoyed the close connection to professional Quidditch, and Hermione adored his loving nature.

Sirius abhorred the thought of marriage and happily went from witch to witch, and though it annoyed his mother, she said nothing because he never lied to these women and treated them with respect.

Astra and Albus married and had five children, all of whom Draco and Hermione spoiled as much as they could. They lived in a house near Harry and Ginny and Godric's Hollow and visited quite often.

Looking back, Hermione couldn't believe how close she'd come to never reconnecting with Draco. Her whole life seemed so hinged upon his, that the thought of never having fallen in love with him seemed inconceivable. Draco told her not to question it. Whatever forces brought them together were to be thanked and not questioned. She just smiled and kissed his cheek. They had everything they could have ever dreamed of, and were pleased to live out the rest of their lives, happily.


	19. AN

**This story is now updated and beta'd as of July 20, 2014. Readers new and old, please enjoy and leave a review if the mood strikes! Thanks for reading. Thanks to Rusty Weasley, the best damn beta in all the land! :)**

**With love,**

**Krystle**


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